You are making the same mistakes less and less, and that’s called progress. And you are advocating for yourself, even though it feels uncomfortable sometimes.

​You are being an example of dignity, fearlessness, authenticity and creativity.

You are bold. You are soft AND strong. You are lovely, and you are so kind…and I am proud of you. 


xoxo,

Let's sit in that together for a little bit...GOD. In all of His love, and glory, and wisdom, and AWESOME POWER can do NOTHING, zilch, zero for us unless we humble ourselves, and recognize that we literally can't do it all on our own.

Maybe the reason why we feel overwhelmed with carrying all of these God dreams we treasure so dearly is because we are attempting to carry the full-weight of things we were never meant to. It's at my whits end, in my exhausted state, when I feel like I'm failing and everything is slipping from my grasp that I cry out to God, and He is faithful to meet me every. single. time.
​
With all the love,
​

When I sit down to write, the strangest thing happens…

I become absolutely paralyzed with ideas.

Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy, but it’s true! It’s honestly like clockwork. 

More often than not, when I sit down to write a blog post or an article, my brain is suddenly overtaken by a small army of ideas and angles to use when approaching the piece. 

Don’t get me wrong - ideas are great, but too many ideas can be outright debilitating. 

Truth be told, I thought writer’s block was supposed to be the opposite. 

I thought a writer’s greatest challenge was coming up with ideas for content, but that’s just not the case for me. For me, the real challenge comes when faced with the blank page.

I don’t know which art you chose to pursue creating, but if you’re anything like me and have a hard time figuring out where to start - I’m here to share a few encouraging things with you:

1. You are not alone, and the struggle is most definitely real.
2. I think the creative process looks different for everyone, and there are very real challenges to overcome for ALL artists no matter what process they have chosen (or better yet, what process has chosen them).
3. I find the best place for me to start is within. That may sound frilly, but track with me. The most successful pieces I’ve ever written I’ve written to myself. I begin by thinking about the lessons I’m learning in real-time, and then I simply share that. I will literally close my eyes, envision a scene where I am sitting across the table from a slightly younger version of myself, and ask “What do you want to talk about today?” And just like that, the words start flowing. 

From head, to heart, to hands, to you. 

That’s my creative process. What’s yours?

With all the love,

[2 min read]

What if I told you that I write everyday. You probably wouldn’t believe me. You’d look at the date of my last blog post, and then the date of the one before that, and notice a trend that would only prove your point. 

Inconsistency in sharing my art has always been something I’ve struggled with. 

I am a blogger and a self-published author, and for the life of me I can’t pick up a book and guarantee that I’ll finish it. I can’t begin writing a blog post and know that I’ll complete it every single time. I can’t even drink a cup of coffee in the morning and expect to see the bottom of the mug before I'm ready to refill it! There always seems to be some small thing left unfinished, a few sentences left unwritten, a few pages left unread. 

Now that I think about it, inconsistency in sharing my art is probably the one thing I’ve been consistent with...now ain’t that funny?!

My desire to hone my craft is real. The space in my heart to create beautiful things that encourage others is real. The love and encouragement I get from my family, friends and community is REAL! 

But you know what else is real? The number of projects I’ve got on my list that haven’t been completed yet, and the negative self-talk that plays all day and doesn't skip a beat.

I know you’re probably waiting for the transition sentence that comes just before someone shares with you the secrets to overcoming this specific issue. Welp, if that’s the case you may want to stop reading now because I, sadly, don’t have the answer.

But what I DO have is something important that I’m recognizing about myself, a heart to be vulnerable and share my mess with you all, and a space in my heart that is open to receiving any/all advice for artists like me who want to overcome the fear of consistently showing my work. 

Here are some of my rough thoughts on this, and I'd love to hear yours:

• Seasons of inconsistency come and go. Just because you’re in one season, doesn’t mean you’re meant to stay there.
• People want to see your art in the rawest form too. Just like a painting, there’s always a “mock up” before the “masterpiece”.
• Messy art is STILL art.
• The best artists had muses, people in their lives who pushed them to create beyond their natural capacity. Do you have one too?
• Can you accept yourself for all of your perfect imperfection? Can you learn things about yourself that are less than ideal, and still look in the mirror and smile at the soul staring back at you? I hope the answer is either an emphatic “yes” or a reluctantly hopeful “I’m learning to”. 

Well, that’s all folks! 


With all the love,

I write this blog post from a coffee shop just down the hill from my apartment in Jerusalem. A beautiful day is unfolding outside of the crystal clear, high-ceiling window panes. There is a sort of urgent calm in the air as locals and foreigners gather to enjoy early afternoon coffee and company.

To my left a table of friends orders their meal in Hebrew. Behind me a charming young couple catches up on life, telling stories in rapid-fire Hebrew and broken English, dropping F’bombs intermittently throughout their conversation in a cadence that seems oddly American. A few tables down a woman and her husband pick at their meal, complaining about the surprisingly poor service. While the service isn’t 5-star by any means, I have found a certain magic in this present moment, and am content to overlook these minor offenses.

I sit perched in my corner of the coffee shop feeling the gentle hum of energy among the busy bustle of the day. I am happy. Overcome with the feeling you get when your heart desperately wants to freeze a moment, but your mind knows full-well that you can’t, so instead you do your best to memorize sounds, search for the strongest scents, and savor the taste and texture of each bite.

It can be difficult uprooting your life and moving to a different country, surrounded by new languages and cultures. This is often referred to as "culture shock" and boy-oh-boy is it real, but in the midst of your new surroundings I encourage you to find the magical moments in the ordinary. Moments that ground you in the present, even if for only a moment.

1. BE WHERE YOU ARE.
Go to a local coffee shop. Sit on a bench overlooking the park. No matter where you find yourself, be there. Take a few breathes. Settle in and expect to see.

2. FIND THE MAGIC.
This is one of my favorite steps. There is no right or wrong way to do this, simply look around you and see how others are living in their present moment. Do you see a couple smiling? Do you hear children playing? Are the leaves blowing in a certain pattern? Are there ants building a hill or carrying a meal. No matter what you find...see it and consider it.

3. REFLECT AND RECORD.
Now that you've observed your surroundings, reflect on the ordinary events that are similar to your day-to-day life at home. Then, reflect on the things that are different. The most shocking thing is that the similarities typically outnumber the differences. If you can, write these things down.

Living abroad is teaching me more about the beauty of life, the depth of love, and the reality of how similar we all really are.

As I write this piece, a tall Israeli soldier with an AK47 strapped to his side kindly volunteers to take a picture of an older couple to my left. Just moments before the same couple had been struggling to take a selfie on their cell phone, but with a gentle smile (and enough ammo in that gun to blow us all to bits) this kind Israeli solider generously helped them capture a beautiful moment in time.

​No matter where in the world we travel to, finding the magic in the ordinary moments of life can give us a new perspective, and help us feel a little bit more at home.

Love,

Stasia Rose

[90 second read]
​
​To return from an adventure is an adventure all it’s own.

We live our lives from adventure to adventure.

​Each one requiring a greater measure of grace. Each one offering deeper lessons to learn.

I recently returned home from the trip of a lifetime.

Through a crazy sequence of events, I was given the opportunity to live and work in Jerusalem for the summer. I enthusiastically accepted a 3-month social media project with an Israel based nonprofit doing meainingful work in the Holy Land!

My role not only allowed me the opportunity to live abroad (something I had always dreamt of doing), it also granted me the space to cultivate my skills as a writer, content creator and photographer in a whole new way.

There is a freedom found the further we venture outside of our comfort zone. Our perspective begins to shift. We begin to see failure as opportunity, and discomfort as growth. And then, as if overnight, we become stronger, wiser and more resilient. 

When we feel the end of a season approaching, we can subconsciously convince ourselves that the next season won’t ever measure up....how could it? The fear of returning to the mundane routine of day-to-day life is as tangible as the 100lb luggage we check at the ticket counter. 

Thankfully, many of us board our flight home with an extra carry-on that contains all of the beautiful memories, difficult lessons and deep discoveries we experienced while away. This baggage quickly becomes the most valuable item we possess, and it's the process of unpacking it that will take us on our next exciting adventure. 

Listen, the adventure doesn’t stop the moment you leave a place. On the contrary. The moment your plane lifts off is the moment a new adventure begins.

Love,
​

When we were children, we were wildly content to live in the moment. We were little wide-eyed warriors, ready to take risks and allow the wonder of life to unfold in its time.

We had no idea what to expect from our futures, but we had faith to believe that the possibilities were as limitless as we were.

We took on each day as it came. We happily walked home in the rain, without a jacket, stepping in puddles that soaked our socks and filled our joy meters. We intricately constructed sandcastles and promptly tore them down with equal levels of excitement.

​We let our imaginations run wild! We warmly invited the shy kids along as we roamed the neighborhoods multi-colored metal kingdoms, collecting “magical stones” that would one day save the world.

We believed everything would be okay. We were faithful and fearless. That was the magic of innocence and youth

Sure, we anticipated dessert after dinner. Sure, we wanted another birthday party the moment we blew out our birthday candles…but in terms of the future, we were generally steady, adaptable, trusting and warmly inviting of the future and all it held for us.

I have officially been living in Israel for one week. Just one second…I had to re-read that sentence a few times because it still seems so surreal. 

I have been welcomed into a community of faith-filled believers and sincerely beautiful human beings. I have reconnected with old friends (Lynzi and Vanessa), and I have made new friends as well (you know who you are)! I have been overwhelmed with kindness and mercy since the moment I set foot in this country, and I am thankful for all of the above.

I am learning that the further away from our comfort zones we choose to place ourselves, the more childlike our faith becomes.

Okay, I know the word childlike can often have a negative connotation...but in regards to faith, I think being childlike is actually a good thing!

In Mark 10:13-16 it reads

I believe that our ability to pursue a childlike faith in every season of our lives can allow God to do the greatest works in and through us. It can also allow us to see the world a little bit brighter, and a little bit more beautiful. It encourages us to see ourselves the way God sees us, and recognize the Lord’s glorious light shining within us.

This whole experience of leaving everything familiar, and moving to the Holy Land for three months has pushed me to depend on the Lord in a whole new way. To lean on his promises. To be still and listen to His voice day and night.

​The Day I Discovered My Different

I grew up in the suburban wilderness of New England. Among the pine trees, apple groves and fragrant lilacs. Each of the small-town roads winded from one predominantly white neighborhood to the next. 

In school, I was almost always the only black child in my classroom. Sometimes I was the only black child in my entire grade and school. For a long time this was not unusual to me. I wouldn't even think about how different my skin made me. In many ways, I think my innocence had protected me from the feelings of loneliness, fear, and self-consciousness that quickly inundate our senses the moment we discover we are different.

Like, really different. 

I remember the day I discovered my different. I was alone in my bedroom, probably journaling or writing a short story, when I saw it.

I had held out my small hand so it showed in the light. I rotated it slowly. Examining its every curve and wrinkle. Seeing my long fingers, my deep nail beds, and the veins that sat just below the surface. Then I saw my brown skin, holding it all together. 

I remember thinking “My skin looks so different from everyone else’s skin. Why am I so different?” And then it happened...

I cried. 

​I wept big, round, elephant tears.

Alone in my bedroom, without warning, and with my whole heart – I cried. Maybe it was because I knew that I could no longer live in the comfort of my ignorant bliss. Maybe it was because I had uncovered a harsh realization that should have stayed buried for just a few more years. Maybe I cried because I knew that I couldn’t change me, even if I wanted to. I would always be different, and my skin was a physical reminder of that lonely divide. 

Now don’t get me wrong. To this day, I have never WANTED to be white. I am only mentioning that because I don’t want anyone assuming that’s the case.

I simply didn’t understand why I had to be SO different from my classmates.

Sure, now and then I wonder what it would feel like being white. I wonder how I might be treated. I wonder how my life would be different. 

I wonder...

Would I still be followed around in stores? 

Would store managers comment on how “surprisingly good” my credit score is? (Yup - true story. This actually happened to me at the Banana Republic in a New Hampshire Mall.) 

Would they call me “Entitled,” and tell me how they “Can see why people would call me privileged?” Also both true and sadly recent stories. 

For some reason, I have the sinking suspicion that these things wouldn’t have happened to me if I was white. Maybe I’m wrong, but these are my honest thoughts nonetheless. 

​I look back on that little girl. I see her silent tears, and I weep for and with her. She did not yet know of the power that lies in her luminescent skin. She hadn't learned about the rich history that has been woven into the royal fabric of her story. She hadn’t yet been told the legacy of courageous, wise, selfless and loving women who proceeded her. 

She is the treasure of her tribe. The legacy of the men and women before her. She is the beauty, grace, and love of her mother and her mother’s mother. 

A once hope of my people, now realized. AND SO ARE YOU!

Our "different" is our power! Use your different to make a difference in the world! You don't have to any longer wait to share your story, lift your voice and leave a legacy. 

We have been strategically placed in an era desperate for love, empathy, and more fearless pioneers. We have been given the honor, blessing, and burden of empowering the voices of women to rise up and be heard! Black, white, brown, yellow, red, and all of the beautiful colors in between.

If I could go back to that bedroom, I would stand beside that little girl. I would warmly embrace her, look her in the eyes and say:

“Wipe your tears baby girl. You are His beautiful creation! A work of art! Now, we don’t have much time, and we’ve got some important work to do.”