I use to think running the race of faith well met crossing the finish line in the top third with the least amount of falls, scrapes, and poop in my shorts
Now, I think running the race well means savoring the run more than the finish.
In the past, shame had a key to my life and could freely come and go. Over the past few years, I evicted shame and changed the locks. But that doesn’t mean shame doesn’t still show up at my door, eager for an opening.