I had a hard time capturing an image to represent the word shadows. Upon waking up on Easter Sunday, a thought and an old photograph surfaced in my mind. In someways, the shadows of my childhood faith follow me around. From a very young age, the smell of musty Sunday school classrooms, felt board Bible stories, and the warmth and kindness of volunteer teachers drew me to the church. In the picture below, I can't be more than four years old, and I'm skipping across the dirt-covered streets of Lefors, unaccompanied, to our local Church of Christ. Memories of VBS, summer church camps, and yearly revivals dance around in my memory. Like a shadow, I can't seem to shake the existential feelings and thoughts I've wrestled with for years. My faith has unraveled, evolved, and morphed. Lurking in the corners of my soul, the God of my understanding continues to whisper a deep abiding truth I struggle to accept. "There is nothing you could ever do to make me love you less. And there is nothing you need to do to make me love you more. You're enough Tenille." Until I can fully embrace this message, the line between healthy striving and perfectionism remains blurred.