There Is No Bad Girl Corner in This Garden

I’ve been thinking a lot about the word welcome.

It’s an easy word to put on a sign.

Welcome.

Come in.

There’s room for you here.

But I think the real test of welcome happens after somebody actually walks through the gate.

Because it’s one thing to say everyone is welcome.

It’s another thing to mean it.

And around here, I want us to mean it.

There is no little asterisk after ALL are welcome that leads to fine print at the bottom of the page.

All are welcome… as long as you believe exactly what I believe.

All are welcome… as long as your life looks the way I think it should.

All are welcome… as long as your mess doesn’t make me uncomfortable.

No.

Love shouldn’t come with an asterisk.

And there is no VIP section in this garden.

There isn’t a disciplinary corner, either.

No bad girl corner where we send the women whose stories are a little too messy, whose questions are a little too uncomfortable, or whose lives don’t fit neatly into somebody else’s idea of what they should look like.

Because welcome does not require sameness.

You do not have to become someone else’s acceptable version of yourself before you deserve dignity, kindness, a place to sit, and someone willing to listen.

The hospital doesn’t turn you away for being too broken.

I’ve always believed that church is supposed to look a little like a hospital.

Think about it.

You don’t walk into a hospital because you have everything figured out.

You go because something hurts.

Because something is broken.

Because you need help.

Sometimes you walk in under your own power. Sometimes somebody has to help you through the door.

And the hospital doesn’t look at you and say,

“Wow. That’s pretty bad. You probably should have gotten yourself together before you came here.”

Being broken isn’t what disqualifies you from the hospital.

It’s why you came.

And sometimes the people who need that place the most are the ones who have been hurt the worst.

I know that churches are made up of human beings, and human beings are imperfect. This isn’t about attacking the church or pretending Wildflower After Winter is somehow a better version of one.

It isn’t a church.

And it isn’t meant to replace one.

Maybe it can simply be an open gate for someone who isn’t quite ready to walk through another door yet.

Maybe it can be a bench.

A place to sit for a while.

A place where nobody asks you to hide the parts of your story that aren’t pretty before they’ll sit beside you.

Every season has a place here.

Because here’s something else I know:

We aren’t all living in the same season.

Some women are blooming.

Some are rebuilding.

Some are grieving.

Some are starting over.

Some are questioning things they thought they’d never question.

Some are finding their faith again.

Some are exhausted from taking care of everybody else.

Some are laughing again after a season when they weren’t sure they ever would.

And some are still standing in a winter that feels like it may never end.

Those seasons belong in this garden, too.

We’re going to talk about faith here.

But we’re also going to talk about questions.

Relationships. Family. Aging. Loss. Purpose. Rest. Laughter. Starting over. And those quiet seasons of growth that nobody else seems to notice.

Because not every flower blooms in the same season. Neither do we.

And wherever you happen to be right now, there is room for your season here.

So where is the bad girl corner?

There isn’t one.

Sorry. We didn’t build it. 😂

There are benches, though.

There are paths.

There are messy blooms and brown leaves and flowers growing where nobody planted them.

There are people who have it together today and may absolutely fall apart next Tuesday.

And there is grace.

You don’t have to agree with every person sitting beside you.

You don’t have to share her story.

You don’t even have to understand all of it.

But you can treat her like she matters.

You can listen.

You can make room.

You can love people without requiring them to earn the privilege first.

That’s the kind of garden I want this to be.

No masks required.

No spiritual VIP section.

No bad girl corner.

No asterisk.

The gate is open.

Come as you are.

We’ll sit with you on the bench until you’re ready to stand again.

And if that takes a while, that’s okay.

There’s no time limit on the bench.