This is a question I have been exploring for much of my forty plus years and still I have not fully found the answer. I carry many titles but are they me? What I see when I look in the mirror – is that the realest reality? Or is there something else? Exquisite beauty? A soul so intricate with a wonder that her depths can never be plummeted?

I think it is true that I am a glorious creature.

Also true is that I am a human. Part of being human means limitations. Some days I rise with a strength and dignity that takes my breath away and other days I sob on my bedroom floor, slam doors, yell at my six children, and spiral into obsessive thinking over the argument I had with my husband last night. To embrace all of my humanity means I must hold both. Weak and strong. Broken and beautiful. Tender and savage. Gentle and wild. My tendency is to slide into either/or rather than embracing the reality of both/and.

I am daughter, wife, mother, woman. 

A lover, and one who longs to stand naked without a shred of shame.

Shame has a large part in my story. I was born into shame, birthed through the same walls that were touched by cruelty and harm. This harm was hidden and shame loves to make things hide – it’s his greatest weapon. And so I was birthed into a world where it was not okay to be me, and this taught me to hide. I became very good at it, as one does when they need to do something to survive. But, this covering of my true self was not the end of the story was it? 

No. 

Because with all the ferocity that shame uses to hurl one into the shadows, we must not forget what else is at work. 

Love. 

One would think, at first glance, that Love is the weaker of the two but don’t believe it. It’s a lie. Love never forces, but it woos. Turns out wooing is the more powerful of the two. Quieter, yes. But immensely more substantial. And so the girl in the shadows – me – who became very good at hiding began to hear the whispers of Love and this enabled her to do all the things a person can do when they feel safe. Rest. Play. Cry. Delight. Wonder. Hurt. Unfurl. Create. This learning-that-I-am-safe business is slow work. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Days turn into months, turn into years, turn into decades, and the slow, steady, intricate work of wooing continues.

For the Great Lover does not give love
but is love and cannot stop being anyone but who they are. 

For some odd reason one of the ways that our eyes are opened to this wooing is through the avenue of suffering. I do not understand why this is so. Only that suffering has a power that little else does, and is able to accomplish what little else can. At least I can vouch for this in my own story. I am a woman who has suffered. I bet you are too. 

I am a dreamer, a visionary,
a girl with a wild imagination.

And what I imagine is not a world without suffering, but a world where every person is held in their suffering. What I imagine is not a world without brokenness, but a world where we can stand naked in our brokenness and not feel ashamed. What I imagine is not a world of conformity, but a world of one-of-a-kind people who are unafraid to live fully as who they are and who are able to love each other, not just in spite of our differences, but rather, because of them. What I imagine is a world where every person feels safe because we know, that we know, that we know, that come what may, in the end, all will be well. 

Hello. I am Fawne. 

I am delighted to be on this journey with you.

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I am fire, wind, and water
The sap of ancient Douglas fir
my scent
I am a deep sob
releasing long-held pain
A broken hallelujah
my tune
I am dreamy fog, gentle rain, morning sun
My word is wise and
my language is soul.