My toes slip through cool sand and find the first step of the boardwalk. It leads over a dune and onto the beach ahead. As I stand on top of it, I catch my breath. The view is breathtaking. My word sisters pause to look with me. We wrap our arms around each other’s shoulders. It’s good to be here together. I feel full and whole and grateful. My heart takes a snapshot of the moment.
Months later I stand on a balcony in another city, arms crossed. The view is beautiful too but I can’t shake a restless frustration inside me. I think of all the expectations I feel like I have to meet, the duties I’m supposed to complete, the people I hope will like me. My world narrows and I feel alone. What if I mess up? What if I let people down? “Get it together,” I whisper to myself.
What made the difference between the two?
One was a platform and the other a pedestal.
Lean and listen, friend: Even if you feel called to have a platform…run-run-run from the pedestal.
Platforms are for sharing.
Pedestals only have room for one.
Platforms are for reaching out and giving back.
Pedestals demand that we hunker down and guard our territory.
Platforms come with space to grow and find freedom.
Pedestals trap us into a life where we can never make a wrong move.
We don’t mean to end up on a pedestal. Yet it’s easy to find ourselves there anyway. How can you tell if that’s happened?
