Hello, Fearless Wanderers, so glad you found my little corner of the internet.

I’m Andrea, and I’m on a journey to fearless living, whatever that looks like on any given day.

Trampolines.  Souffles.  Auditions.  Blogs.  I just want to say “yes” to the opportunities and possibilities without hesitating because of fear.

A couple of years ago, I realized I was still letting sneaky little fears run my life.  I’d faced the fears of death and loss, some “big ones.”  But, perfectionism?  Feeling qualified?  Approval, embarrassment, rejection?   Comments made at a meeting.  Cold shoulders.  Sneers and snickers.  Little looks.

Sometimes it’s the little things that get you, that stop you from doing what you were made to do.

I’m kind of over it.

I feel the urgency of time.  I want to live a fearless life.  Just more and more, to fear less.  I want to take on whatever challenge presents itself with a peaceful  defiance.

Go ahead, you stunning world, bring it on.

Plenty of fabulous women have gone before me and done this thing right.  I want to look at their lives, the writing they left behind, the examples they give, and follow in their footsteps.

About the time I realized fear still had a hold on my mind, I had an idea for a painting.  It is the painting at the top of the page; it’s called “Strength.”

I saw in my mind the classic Rosie the Riveter wartime poster, the beautiful and determined woman, rolling up her sleeves, ready to take on any new kind of work.  But, for my painting, I saw her with that powerful bicep showing, and tattooed with the source of strength:  Joy.

The joy of the Lord is my strength.  It has proven true for me over and over again.  Tap into who He is–true love, laughter, beauty, kindness, generosity, and surprise–and everything changes.  I change.  I’m better.  I’m happier.  I’m stronger.

And, for a twist, the tattoo is an ambigram.  Turn it upside down, and it says “Live.”  He stands over us and says “Live!”

I’m ready.

Jumping in, God, trusting You to catch me.

The painting isn’t perfect.  I see it.  When I did it, I was afraid to finish it.   There is something intimidating about finishing anything creative.  Presenting something as “finished” means “this was the best I could do at the time.”  I didn’t want to see what my “finished” looked like.  I was afraid of putting myself into something and falling short.

So, I didn’t finish it.  Even though finishing was only five minutes away.  Time passed, and I saw Rosie the Riveter coming back, everywhere.  I hadn’t seen her in full revival yet when I painted her.  But, I let fear keep her in the closet.

When I picked up the canvas again two years later, I couldn’t remember how I had mixed the paint.  I did the best I could and had to leave a few things alone; touching them with new color would mean redoing the whole thing.

But, here’s the deal.  I love that Rosie.  I love her anyway.  In her glorious imperfection.  Perfectionism is its own kind of thief.  It will steal every effort we make if we let it.

I love that painting now, because of her imperfection.  I look at her, and it is one big message to me.  Don’t let fear and imperfection keep you from what you long to do, hidden away, stuffed in a dark closet.

Get out of there and find some joy and  LIVE–fearless.

We can do it.

Goodbye, Fear. Hello, Love.