For My Visionaries. Misfits. Changemakers. The Ones Who Dare.

The Trailblazers. The Extras. The Habitual Line Steppers. AKA The White Sheep

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The ones who didn’t just step outside the box—they reimagined the box entirely.

Could you be the white sheep we need?

If you are indeed then let me just say this: You’re not the problem; you are the possibility.

Recently, my friend T said something that really struck a chord. We were talking about what it’s like to feel like an outsider in your own family when she called me the "white sheep" and gently said, “You might as well get comfortable with it because that's just how it's going to be.” I laughed in the moment, but her words stayed with me, lingering long after our conversation ended.

It got me thinking—we’ve all heard of the “black sheep”—the rebel, the screw-up, the one who never quite fits. But what about the white sheep? The ones who get labeled as problems when, in reality, they are possibilities.

Now, don’t get me wrong—nobody on this planet is a fluffy, innocent saint. White sheep aren’t perfect, nor are they candidates for sanctification. They’re just different. Different in the way they see the world, challenge the norm, and dare to carve out a path that others can’t—or won’t—walk.

White sheep break cycles, heal old wounds, and forge new paths. They’re the ones who dare to dream bigger, to ask for more, and to become more. They don’t spark change out of rebellion—they do it because they can’t ignore the truths that demand to be spoken.

It’s like there’s something inside me that fully understands the weight of my words—that they can and often will cut both ways. Yet, I’m compelled to speak them all the same. That sword of truth won’t earn me rewards or brownie points in most social circles, either.

I’ve heard some variation of “What’s up with her?” my whole life. As a sister, a mother, and a wife, that question has followed me. And the answer has always been simple: the only thing “up” was that I wanted people to win.

While attending a local cohort, I had the opportunity to take an assessment analyzing conflict styles, and I discovered that I align most with the Compromising Fox. This makes sense to me. I’m always looking for the win-win in every situation. I genuinely believe that everyone doesn’t have to lose for me to win. Instead, I gravitate toward those who value empowering others to stand as equals, not subordinates.

This mindset, while often misunderstood, is what drives me. It’s what makes me the white sheep—and proud of it. Notice I said win-win, I plan to work hard to win, so I feel it's simple reciprocity to expect a win in return. See: Law of Attraction.

But being a white sheep isn’t easy. It feels lonely. It feels heavy. You often feel like you’re holding up a mirror to those around you, reflecting their unspoken fears and unmet potential. And let’s be honest, not everyone wants to see that—including me.

I am my own worst critic. Knowing my trajectory, I can clearly see both how far I’ve come and the infinite possibilities for where I’m going. That duality—pride in progress yet hunger for more—creates a constant internal push-and-pull. It’s equal parts inspiring and exhausting, but it’s the fire that keeps me moving forward.

White sheep often face resistance—even hostility—from the people closest to them. Your growth disrupts their comfort. Your boldness shakes up the status quo. Your difference feels like a threat. And it hurts, especially when all you’re trying to do is be yourself.

I remember when I first realized I was the "white sheep" of my family (although they definitely didn't call it that!). It was back when I decided I could no longer attend church with them. I grew up in a deeply religious family where church was as ingrained as anything else. My great uncle even drove the church van that picked us up every Saturday (see: Seventh Day Adventist). The church was like a second home, with so many of us related to each other that family gatherings felt like a small city. But at 16, I decided I couldn’t follow the same path anymore. I stopped attending, and my refusal didn’t sit well with anyone.

When I shared my decision with my family, it wasn’t met with understanding. My uncle Eddie, who had always been a father figure to me, chastised me in the way only a proud elder could. (Did I mention he was the head deacon, too?) “This is the way we live,” he said, his voice heavy with tradition.

Actually, it wasn’t just about tradition—it was about the expectation that I follow it without question. The uncomfortable truth was that I had questions. I couldn’t accept something that didn’t align with my own understanding of spirituality. The story of Ellen G. White didn’t explain a number of things I saw or felt intuitively.

For me, it wasn’t about rebellion either; it was simply a choice—a deeply personal decision about how I connected with God. The discomfort of that choice has followed me in many ways since, but it has also been one of the most defining moments of my life.

I’m sure many of you can relate. It’s hard to walk a path of your own when everyone around you insists on staying within the lines. But here’s the thing: not every other sheep is black. Most of them are grey. Grey sheep don’t rebel; they don’t inspire either. They blend in, go with the flow, and avoid rocking the boat. To them, your push for change feels like an unnecessary complication—a disruption to their carefully balanced lives. They’d rather you stay quiet, stay small, stay where they can understand you.

But again: you are not the problem.

The world needs white sheep. Desperately. You’re the ones who create space for something better. You’re the ones who rewrite the rules and remind us all that “how it’s always been” isn’t how it has to be. White sheep are the catalysts for progress, the quiet revolutionaries, the ones who show us that change is possible—because you live it.

Without white sheep, nothing would evolve. Families, communities, and even societies would stay stuck. Growth starts with someone willing to step out of line, willing to say, “This isn’t enough. We can do better.”

So, if you’re reading this and feel like the white sheep in your own world, take this as your reminder: your courage matters. Your willingness to disrupt, to grow, and to push forward matters.

Keep showing up. Keep speaking up. Because somewhere, someone is watching—and your bravery is giving them the permission they need to step into their own light. In a world full of grey, it’s the white sheep who spark the brightest, most beautiful change.

Send it On!: This is a reminder that your courage, your story, and your voice are exactly what someone else needs to see today.

U.R., Nikki B.