This is not about ice- cream.
This is about you.

This is about filling every crevice of your day so that you don’t have to be still.

Your fear of intimate sessions with only you and your mind and the chaos you don’t want to sort out.

This is about your consistent belief that you’re not enough, that you’re defined by the foods you eat and your comparison game with too many players.

This not about ice-cream.
This is about me.

Allowing myself to get so caught up with defining myself in my busyness.

This is about begging to be loved by all the wrong people.

This is about my need to fill my planner up and still have the audacity to say, “God use me.”

This is about right now.
And recognizing when grace and rest is handed to you in a cone of sweet goodness.
This is about each bite.
Every still and glorious moment.

But this,

this is not about ice cream.