Loose.

Every once in a while you let yourself loose. It might be through a glass of wine or two. Or that shelf of books that makes you think. Or the movie you've been avoiding. Things that make it hard to stay in the lines.

You're usually so safe, so cautious. You have rules about it. Who you have a glass with. Who you make eye contact with. Talk on the phone with. Christian romance novels are out. Action movies are in. Cary Grant is dangerous when you're alone.

You don't run because you might fall. You don't play games because you might lose. You hardly ever draw. It might turn out badly. You don't talk to strangers.

And then you spend time with people who know you. People who bring out that outrageous side of you. And you start to let go.

Your dad calls you smug. Your sister tells you you're out of control. Your brother just shakes his head.

You're suddenly willing to talk to anybody. You get louder and louder. Braver and braver. You try hard things. You laugh when you fall. You play until you win. You draw with crayons on tablecloths in front of everyone.

You're really you in those moments. He didn't make you to live safely. And when you don't hold back, you embrace that part of you that holds His image. You rush closer towards the steady storm of faith. And He's there. Grinning.