My soul cries out for freedom. Yet when I was free to write whatever I wanted I ignored my liberty. Fear of imperfection is my prison cell. Who put me in this jailhouse? My mother, my father? No! My fear.....of imperfection. Who has the key to release me? My husband, my friends, my classmates, my teacher? No! I do! Compassion for myself is the key. Courage to be vulnerable opens the door so that fear will no longer restrain me. I will then be free to greet imperfection with a hug for teaching me how to be real.
