Run, little one, run…
That’s what I want to say when I see this photo of myself - six or seven years old, wild and free in a field.
Run to your true self.
Run to the one who sees, feels, and knows deeply.
Run to the one who deserves to be loved, honored, nurtured, and heard.

But maybe like me, you didn’t run that way.
Maybe you ran from…

The things you felt too much of.
The voice inside that didn’t know how to speak its truth.
The worth that was always there, but hard to claim.
The love that felt too big, too fragile, or too foreign to accept.

Maybe your version of running looked quieter - like mine.
I became a sponge. Everything I felt, everything I couldn’t explain or didn’t understand, I absorbed.
All that inward knowing had nowhere to go, so it stayed inside.

It took me years - decades - to meet that sponge with kindness.
To realize she wasn’t broken. She was me.
Soft. Sensitive. Deep.
Capable of incredible love and wisdom.

Maybe you recognize that too - a part of yourself you’ve tucked away.
Maybe you’ve been absorbing life, but not always feeling seen in it.
Maybe now, in your own time, you're being invited to pause… and turn toward the truth of who you are.

No matter when you begin, the path is always there.
The path of remembering. The path within.

It may ask for courage.
It may stir old wounds.
But it also opens wonder, joy, and the kind of peace that can only come from coming home to yourself.

So wherever you are today - whatever version of yourself you see running in a field - I hope you hold them with love.
And when you’re ready…
May you run to you, not from you.

With tenderness and grace,
Susan