Today, this Friday, September 16th, I unveil my new blog with a tribute to an amazing and Grace filled woman of God. She is Joy, in the flesh, and she’ll be going Home soon. Won’t you join me there?

When you are there, be sure to subscribe! :o)

It’s good to be back.

Tucked into the middle of the swarming hallway of 650 women abuzz, the prayer room. The busy, the chaos, the excitement, the nerves, the information overload, the rushing from hither to yon; the prayer room in the middle.

Informed prior to arrival of the sacred space created special for us, school girl excitement welled up within; anticipation for what the Lord had for me there. Every woman prayed over and her name placed by His. Which of Him might He delight for me to know? Oh how the heart longs to be spoken to.

Shoes removed upon entrance; hallowed ground. Lights dimmed, overstuffed chairs, pillows scattered, candles burning, tissue boxes aplenty, delicate worship music sweetly drapes the air; the bread and the wine. Two tables with His names, 19 of them, with each woman’s name taped around who He is; how He wants her to know Him. Quick scanning each one to find the familiar double k. Nothing. Slow down; read each one slower. He wants to be known. Is He the One who sees me? Is He my Strong Tower? My Provider?

A second round; nothing. 

The mind starts to skitter around and the heart’s hopes begin to sink, they couldn’t have forgotten me. Could they? Should I ask someone? But…must I ask… to be remembered? Forgotten. Disregarded. The anticipation was for this; this right here, that God would have a name for me. Surely He wouldn’t let my name slip by…

A third time names scanned, s.l.o.w.l.y.; special attention to other words on the tables:

SIMPLIFY

BELIEVE

A deep breath in…slowly let out. Heart sinking. Forgotten. Lost in the crowd of so many others remembered.

One more time. It’s here. It has to be here. Slowly, praying desperately through 17 of the 19 and there…tucked in, but not hidden; overlooked by haste:

Jehovah-Rapha

The Lord Who Heals

God has provided the final cure for spiritual, physical and emotional sickness in Jesus Christ.

Tears from deep guttural places well up. Not forgotten. Thank you Jesus, that I’m not forgotten

He speaks more than His name. This,  in a prayer room tucked into the middle of the chaos, forced to slow down to see Him, is where healing begins.

It has caused me some unease to consider it because I wonder if I’ll lose the few readers I do have. But…that’s one of the reasons I will do it… because I don’t want writing and sharing my heart to be about needing approval and validation. I don’t need an audience to do what I need to do. And what I need to do is write; no fear.

Other reasons for the pause are to find my voice; my real voice. The one that is not afraid. It’s there.

I want to pause so that I may come back refreshed. Renewed. I have plans to re-sculpt my blog… I’ve been all over the place up until now, but I desire focus and some relative form of structure to contain the words that want to pour out; that will pour out. I’m not sure yet what it will look like, but some down time and prayer will provide clarity; I’m certain.

In addition to the pause of writing, at least publicly, I’ll also be taking some much-needed time to take care of myself; my health. I’m going to stop making excuses. My daughter needs a healthy mama. This will require some strength of will and focus.

And…I’ll also be working on fund-raising for my next mission trips. I will be posting a few posts over here, if you’d like to see where I’m going next and keep up with me there. :)

I’m not sure how long I’ll be away…maybe a month or two. I will be reading your blogs and commenting. Y’all keep me inspired and are truly the reason for my being spurred on to the next level. Whatever that level may be. :)

Please stay tuned and if you are a praying folk, I’d be blessed to be held in yours.

I will return. :)

Promise.

“Why you wearing all black? You going to a funeral or something?”

And then my mind goes to the multitude of other comments made by various others over time…

“You should really keep your hair long.

“You could light a match with the stubble on your legs.”

“Everyone could stand to lose a few pounds…” in such a manner that was side stepping saying directly that *I* could stand to lose a few pounds.

“Your ankles are HUGE!”

“You’re tummy is looking flatter today…”

“You should really wear make up more often.”

“You always wear ‘safe’ clothes…”

“You’re getting too thin.”

“You’re clothes are fitting a bit snug.”

And…the arsenal of ‘you should’ and ‘your body and appearance don’t measure up’ statements goes on and on and on.

As I ponder these statements, I also recall the LIFETIME of discontent that I’ve had about my body and my appearance. And it suddenly occurs to me that my discontent is a reflection of others’ perceptions about the way my body and appearance should be. It’s ludicrous to think about… like I or anyone has ever had any control over the body that we were born into. Yes, I can control the length of my hair and whether or not I shave my legs and I can to some extent control my weight fluctuation, and I can control the clothes I put on my body… but to be constantly aware of my body and appearance because others find some authority to speak about the condition or state of my appearance according to their own lens at any given moment, is exhausting!

I was talking to my Mom last night and she was bludgeoning herself about her appearance and the weight that she’s gained, and the thought entered my mind,

Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? 1 Cor 6:19

God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. Gen 1:27

The Creator of the universe also created fat cells and the shapes of our bodies. In His image. Who re-wrote the standard?

Once upon a time, man and woman walked in the garden, naked. Unashamed. Can you image being so free and so unencumbered? What must that be like not to be under the magnifying glass of imperfection and expectation? I so long for that freedom; to be accepted for every single thing that I am, not by all that I am not.

What if the focus was shifted to the attributes we HAVE been gifted with?

“I love your hair!”

“You have pretty eyes.”

“You are beautiful.”

“I love your style.”

“You’re so comfortable to be around.”

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things. Phil 4:8

I’d add to ’think’ about such things with ‘speak’ about such things; not just to others, but about ourselves, as well. No longer is it appropriate for me to shuffle through my closet and berate myself for having a ‘fat’ day. My body is going through a natural and normal hormonal fluctuation that requires a bit more room to accommodate it. So I wear a pretty black dress that is comfortable and accommodates my needs for that day. And if someone has something negative or contrary to say about it, I will reply back with a compliment; “I really like your shirt!” :)

Therefore, let’s keep on pursuing those things that bring peace and that lead to building up one another. Rom 14:19

I love me some Oswald Chambers.

If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell —Matthew 5:30

…an interview I had for a job a few years ago.

The first round of the interview I felt I aced. The gal I’d be supporting (if I’d have gotten the job) and I clicked and I felt very confident that the second round would be equally as fluid. My confidence was shattered about 2.5 milliseconds into that second interview. The train wreck only took about 7 minutes before they sent me on my way. The gentleman I interviewed for the second round immediately placed my intelligence (measured by status and affluence) on the line to justify. What college did you attend? Is that even accredited? What was your G.P.A.? (Really? Who asks for G.P.A. anymore?) Turns out I was no match at all for this companies legal council.  It reminded me of another job I held where all the men I supported came from Ivy League and high status universities and when they asked where I went to college, I told them of the Community College I’d attended with intentions to eventually finish with a Bachelors someday… They all looked at me, paused as the air sucked out of the room, and then changed the subject. I’m not sure what it’s like having been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth and it was clear they had no idea how to conversate with someone from the other side of the tracks.

Is status and intelligence an adequate measure of worth?

I just finished a class that I was able to venture into the subject matter of Shame. I hit a jackpot and with the new information, I’m able to see things now that I couldn’t ever put my finger on before. Like…how completely stupid I felt after leaving that interview…because someone communicated with me in such a way that triggered a shame response. Perhaps he was asking a simple set of questions and it was the only way he knows how to quickly measure someone’s fit for the job, but non-verbal communication is also about 80 something percent of communication. His facial expressions spoke volumes more to my stuttering and stammering answers I was not prepared for the questions of, than the actual questions themselves.

Since this class, I’m coming into a deeper awareness that shame creates shame. Just like my post ‘Hurting People Hurt People’ it is from brokenness that brokenness comes. Being shamed by intelligence may seem trivial or trite compared to the multitudes of other things to be shamed by, but in reflection I wonder if this guy even wanted to be a lawyer. Maybe his Dad was broken and communicated as such by telling his son he wasn’t good enough unless he was a lawyer; or a  doctor. And because he’s angry or bitter enough, a lawyer is a fitting position to effectively scourge people with their words in an effort to substantiate his worth and climb out of the mire of his own feelings of shame. Maybe it was his mom that pushed that on him and any woman who comes into his path he has to put into their place. So…asking about G.P.A. is not something that sounds much like a scourging via words, but for a girl who felt ashamed of having come from the other side of the tracks, who never thought she’d ever go to college because she was poor and of no influence or skill to get a scholarship to begin with, the question implied (at least to me) that my intelligence measured by a number (which to be clear is of no relevance since my G.P.A. is almost 4.0) and the university from whence it came was more of an indicator of my worth than my 14 something years of building my skills to reach this place of ‘status’. However proud I was of having reached this level on a career ladder was completely shattered by a different measure…and a look of complete and utter disdain and repulsion on his face when I was shocked by the question and started to stammer over my words.

Shamed by a measure of intelligence. Because I grew up poor, even as a thirty something, it can still sting when worth is measured by money…and then is reflected on intelligence. I don’t understand the correlation, but it is so very real in our culture and particularly in Corporate America.

I’m so very grateful that there is a standard of measurement far superior than anything man can conjur up here; one that does not shame others in order to puff up or lift up.

Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful. 1 Cor 1:27

As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in Him will never be put to shame.” Romans 10:11

As I ponder earthly understood levels of status and intelligence as a measure of worth, I quickly reflect on words I can trust that have been whispered to me that sink deeply into the well of my heart and soul… Ma’am … You’re Worth Far more than Rubies. He’ll never shame me for the earthly ‘treasures’ I have or don’t have. So long as my treasures’ source is of heavenly origination, I will not suffer shame or feel disgrace or humiliation. (Isaiah 54:4) The outide appearance of my life is not the measure, but the inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, that is of great worth… 1Peter 3:4

I realized this enemy that lurks…that robs us of joy and replaces it with the blues, feeling dejected, despondent, destroyed, disconsolate, dismal, dispirited, doleful, down and out, down in the dumps, down trodden, downcast, downhearted, dragged, droopy, gloomy, glum, grim, heavyhearted, in a blue funk, joyless, low, low-spirited, mirthless, miserable, moody, moony, mournful, pensive, saddened, somber, sorrowful, sorry, torn up, trite, unhappy, wistful, woebegone, woeful… Isn’t it incredible…the number of feelings and emotions that can replace one – JOY. Why do we feel this way? There are times when these feelings are appropriate and normal – life has a lot of big owies it throws our way. But when it’s about not having something… when we live in a culture that is flooded with commodity and things we MUST HAVE… Will I die without being married again? Probably not. Did my former marriages ’cure’ the deep yearnings in my heart? No. I have plenty of rich delicious relationships and I am not alone. We do need relationship, for sure. We’re hard-wired for it. Is relationship with a daughter less valuable than that of a spouse? Is relationship with a friend less valuable? With parents? Family? Acquaintance? Different, yes…but less valuable? No.

So what do we do when we’re feeling overcome with the swooning sometimes unrelenting unrequited desires of our heart? I’ve decided to just allow myself to feel it. Acknowledge it for what it is and be grateful that I do feel it. It means I’m alive and well and healthy. How often do we do that? Allow ourselves permission to feel. I’ve run away from my feelings for so long because I was so uncomfortable with feeling them, so I tried to distract myself with something in order to dissuade the feeling. I’ve learned that only heightens the agony of it all when the thing I tried to stuff into it didn’t work like I’d hoped; it left me feeling emptier. Then I started to acknowledge the feelings for what they are…yes, I have a very deep hole in my soul that yearns sometimes desperately for deeper connection. I’m human; it’s part of my condition.

He’s placed eternity in the hearts of men (Eph 3:11), which translates to connection with Him. Just as we feel the connection to our biological family because we are connected, we long to be connected to the One who created all things, including ourselves. In our broken world, that connection has been broken and we long for it be reconnected.

No singular person will fill that for me. It has to be filled with more of something else. If I choose to look around and see all that I am richly blessed with, the hole doesn’t feel so big and vast and deep. Joy starts to fill it for the beauty that is in this life. Is a flower less beautiful because it grows in the desert? It’s a choice we have…to focus on what we don’t have, or focus on what we do. If I saw that unbelievably beautiful flower in the desert, would I fail to see it because I am so distracted by the heat of the desert? Or stand in awe that something so beautiful can grow here? It’s the perpetual tension in life we must endure; beauty in the midst of discomfort.

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison 2 Cor 4:17

I submitted an inquiry at the end of May to see what the status was of the waiting list and I was told that if I don’t hear anything by June 1st, that I’d be notified of information regarding next year’s conference. June 1st came and went and I crossed the event off my calendar. But still…there was something hanging on…

I started receiving emails about getting ready for the conference and thought perhaps they just send these to everyone who provided an email address along the way in order to encourage future participation. And still…something was hanging on…

Last night, just a little over a month from the date of the conference, I receive notification that out of a waiting list of over 250, I’ve been chosen to participate!  All the pieces and parts and details came gushing forth…all in perfect timing. I had to cross this bridge and that one and understand this other detail before things would line up accordingly. And now…I cannot WAIT to see/know what this conference has waiting for me.

Oh…and the money? I’ve had a check sitting on my desk leftover from last term’s financial aid that I’ve been praying for…what should I use it for…and I kept hearing ‘wait’… And…once I received the notification last night I was able to immediately book all my reservations because…I had the money waiting for it all along. :) Seriously…the fruit produced while waiting on the timing of that teenie tiny still small voice is delicious. :) I was almost resigned to just pay that money back into the loan so I wouldn’t have it to worry about in the end…but…perhaps my first book deal will cover my student loans… ;o)

Why am I so excited about this conference? I mean…it’s just a conference, right? I’m not sure why I’m so excited except that…where the Lord’s pulling/promptings are…I know there is good stuff awaiting. BIG STUFF. Cuz He’s in the little stuff and the medium stuff, but when there’s stuff involving the desires of our hearts…its big. What’s big about this? Writing. Having the opportunity brought before me, without real effort of my own…

Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ whenever you turn to the right hand or whenever you turn to the left’…(Isaiah 30:21)

I’m a natural follower; not a trailblazer at all. It’s lovely to follow the leader who knows what He’s doing. :) I’ve looked at options for book writing and where to start and where to go and it overwhelms me. But this…It’s going to be placed right in front of me.  A smorgasbord of God’s goodness and secrets placed on the shiny cloth-covered table that I’ll be sitting at in Concord, NC the weekend of July 21st. And…I might just get to sit down with a publisher, too. :)

I’m an amateur blogger with absolutely nothing published except words inspired by life spilled out onto the world-wide web of electronic pages. But I’m so crazy believing in God utilizing the little unsuspecting things of this world to shine His glory brightly. I’ve long ago submitted myself to His leading, “Here I am Lord, send me.”  And I will go, with the giddiest of anticipation, to see what is in store for me there.

“You’re worth far more than rubies…”

Usually…four hours of sleep would not normally a joyful girl make. But this particular morning…this morning…the sun shined differently in my world.

As I was driving in to work, I pondered the worth of rubies… What makes a ruby so valuable? In our modern culture there’s a high value placed on diamonds, but in the Bible, diamonds are only mentioned a few times, generally grouped together with other fine gems, and also as an etching device, interestingly enough, for the stone tablet of Judah’s heart  (Jer 17:1). But they never stand alone as a determiner of worth.

Rubies, however, are mentioned several times…

The price of wisdom is far above rubies. Job 28:18

Wise words are more valuable than much gold and many rubies. Prov 20:15

Who can find a virtuous and capable wife? She is more precious than rubies. Prov 31:10

How valuable are rubies, if they’re used as the scale?

Rubies are red. As I scan the web pages of information to learn more about rubies, He whispers again… ”Red is the color of my Love (1 Cor 13:4-8) (Psalm 103:17).” I catch my breath at the thought… Oh, what a rare treasure this kind of love; it is rich…and never fails.

As I read on, it seems the more crimson the color, the more valuable it is. The deeper the color of love, the more value is contained. Was there a love offering more valuable than the shedding of the color red, from a Son…for ME? The more saturated with blood color the more valuable this precious gem becomes…I stand in awe. The thought of losing my one singular daughter for another…I cannot comprehend. But He chose that…for me.

And as I read further in, I learn that most natural rubies have some cloudiness or imperfections inside: very few are perfectly clear. The best quality rubies are transparent, not opaque. There’s value…in transparency…

And as a method of heightening and brightening the radiance of the color of a genuine ruby, it’s placed in conditions of extreme heat…a refiner’s fire…to bring clarity and brilliance to the gem.

It’s also one of the hardest stones in the world; resistant to fracture. Could it be?… That those of us who are His, are resistant to fracture? That those who trust in the Lord, also have His strength?

Again the one who looked like a man touched me and gave me strength. Dan 10:18

The Sovereign LORD is my strength… Hab 3:19

I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. Phil 4:13

But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you… 2 Thes 3:3

It’s very humbling…Humble actually doesn’t seem an appropriate word to use, but I can’t seem to find the right word to use…for how this all makes me feel. As a broken girl whose not felt much worth for the greater part of her life, for the God of the Universe, to whisper such a sentiment…to ME? Am I really worth more than rubies? But…I am not anybody special. I struggle. I’m fallible. I make poor choices. I stumble and fall. I’m not anything or anyone important. I’m just a girl. Nobody asks for my autograph or takes my pictures or even wants to know my story. Who am *I*, that the Lord of all the earth, would care to notice me? I slog through the days, some days not opening my Bible and some days not noticing others; consumed with my own little world. How can it be? I don’t DO enough of anything to be worth anything!

No mortal comprehends its worth; it cannot be found in the land of the living. Job 28:13

For the customs of the peoples are worthless… Jer 10:3

Your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, is of great worth in God’s sight. 1Peter 3:4

Ah…that is it…the sweet spot tucked into the heart of a gentle and quiet spirit. As the ocean’s turbulence churn on the surface, it is in the depths that teem with life and the Truth that is real…value rests deep within.

If I’m standing and talking to someone, I realize from time to time that I don’t know what to do with my hands. Do I stand there with them clenched into a tight-fisted ball? Do I let them hang loose? Do I put them in my pockets – oh, wait…I don’t have pockets. Do I cross my arms? But that may communicate that I’m closed off and not receptive. What, in the world, am I to do with my hands? In the process of figuring out what I’m supposed to do with them/where to put them, my body can’t be still. Someone told me a while back that I was a bit ‘twitchy’. Am I really? My awareness was piqued and again, I wonder…why in the world am I so tense all the time?

Something has happened to me in the past week or so that’s a bit interesting and I do like it; I hope it sticks around. But in the process of opening my eyes and SEEING things around me and being grateful for these things, the awareness has been taken off myself and it feels like a 50 lb robe has slid off of me. My shoulders are not hiked up to my ears all the time, but when they want to readjust to their habit position, I notice, tell myself to relax, look around at things to be grateful for, and the weight again slides off me. Funny how being aware, IN THIS MOMENT, brings calm.

Be Still…Psalm 46:10

Yesterday morning I was feeling pretty good for the first time in a while, but then I had a conversation with someone and I twisted myself right back up into a knot. Right about the time I realized that I’d done it again…worked myself into a knot (I felt it coming, too…was tapped on the shoulder not to say the words…), FEAR came to my mind.

FEAR.

And the names of a bucket load of fears reached me. At the core of them all is abandonment - PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME! – and I sit with my jaw agape, in awe. Wow. In an effort not to be left…in anything…I control and maneuver and script out the minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years after year after year…in order to ensure I won’t be left. Abandoned. I thought that I’d dealt with the majority of my abandonment issues. Apparently there’s a well much deeper.

I take a deep breath in and out, and slump into my chair. It has a choke hold on everything. This past year I’ve noticed a couple of things…my short term memory has been choked to death – I lose a lot of information and forget a lot. It’s frustrating and I know it’s stress related, but at the time I don’t really know the depths of the stress that is causing it. Life. Now I see, its my own fists choking the life out of it. I used to be able to go away on weekend getaways pretty frequently. I’ve been itching to do it again, but every time I pull up my time share information, everything is closed. I don’t just see it as an inconvenience to my running away to relax…where’s the logic in that?!…but I wonder why in the world I can’t get away? Why isn’t my relaxation places available to me? But…running away to relax? There’s something wrong with the picture if I don’t know how to relax in my own home.

Anyways…I have a lot of dreams and desires and whispers to my spirit that I believe in and I cling to them like my life depends on it. If I can’t control them then they might not come true. They might abandon me. If they abandon me, then I’ve no worth. I need something or someone or somewhere to be and something to be doing so that I ensure a position, a place of importance…so that I’m not abandoned. If I’m part of something bigger than myself, then I’m something. If I’m not someone’s girl, then who am I? If I’m not a missionary, then who am I? If I’m not the girl with emotions and moods, then who am I? If I’m not in agony over being a single parent, then what validates who I am? If I’m not a photographer then who am I? If I’m not a writer, then who am I? But in trying to control and maneuver all these things so that I ensure some form of ‘success’ or another, I have choked the life out of them all with the strangle hold of my own hands. I hold onto the idea so desperately…there’s no more life. Everything is stagnant. Deteriorating. Dying, right before my eyes.

My daughter the other day says to me when I’m tucking her into bed, “Mama, I love you tons and TONS. Cuz…you were nice to me ALL day.”

You’ve no idea how this breaks my heart. I see how I want to be, but because I control and manipulate everything around me because it should somehow fit into this idealistic image, and because it looks different, I feel out of control and I’m irritable, and unfortunately the individual who is in my presence the most…gets the brunt of my discontent. But in her statement was a morsel of clarity. It was because I just let today be today. Each moment, the moment they are supposed to be. I wasn’t busy controlling everything’s outcome.

I’ve been thinking about doing something the past few days, but after twisting myself into knots yesterday, I realize I need to do it now. Let Go. Oh, I’ve been letting go of this and that, but dropping a few pieces of sand out of the beach doesn’t really make a heap of difference in the grand scheme of things. I do also realize that letting go is a process and not something that can be done in one heap, then DONE. I’m certain I’ll have to remind myself again later. But for now, this post will be a reminder to myself what I’m doing and the reason(s) why.

If you love something, set it free.

Missions: Thank you God, for the desire you’ve placed in my heart for missions. I set it free. It is yours. I’m done trying to control it and manipulate it and make it into something about me because missions is important and I want to be important. Missions is about you. You will send me if/when you want and to wherever you want. Missions does not define me.

Marriage: Thank you that I’ve been given the desire for marriage, to be coupled with someone for the rest of life. I set it free. It is yours. No amount of controlling or judging people through the lens of my brokenness will bring the perfect union between two people, the way You had intended. I set free my own understanding of the way it should be. Marriage and partnership will not define me. Singleness does not define me.

Photography: Thank you for the eye and the heart and the lens to see things deeply. I set it free. It is yours. No longer will I try to box up what it is that I do or have the ability to do or try to explain it. It just is. I’ll say thank you to those who make comment and allow you to do the rest. I’m only the vessel that clicks the shutter button. Being a photographer does not define me.

Writing: Thank you for the ability to be transparent and articulate with words. I set it free. It is yours. No longer will I try to force a book out of myself or some form of definition of the way I write. I just write from my heart. Do with it as you will. Writing, being published, writing a book…they will not define me.

Parenting: Thank you for the amazing Grace, and gift, that is my daughter. I set the interpretation of my own ‘skills’ as a parent free. It is yours. You will fill in the gaps. And I will love her moment to moment to moment. The manner in which I ‘feel’ I raise her does not define me. I release the burden and perception of failure. Failure does not define me.  

Wanderlust: Thank you that I have the desire to travel the world!  I set this free. It is yours. The world is small in your hands, but I trust that I will go when/where I should go. Having seen the world and being well-travelled does not define who I am.

Employment: Thank you that I have employment. I set it free. It is yours. It doesn’t matter that it is contract and that it is part-time and that it is not something I want to do the rest of my life or that there is uncertainty in it (because I’d rather be writing or taking pictures, but most importantly raising my little girl rather than daycare). The security of it is out of my hands. The purpose of it is important for today. Employment and what I ‘do’ does not define me. It is a means to an end…and a blessing today.

Single Motherhood: Thank you that I am capable of really hard work; that my arms and legs work and I am healthy. I set this free. It is yours. I don’t need a husband to make it right. It’s not wrong. It just is. Your Grace is sufficient. The difficulties do not define me.

Personality: Thank you that I am introverted and quiet one moment and excitable and bouncy the next. Thank you that I’m moody and emotional and deep because I feel the depths of all life has to offer. I set it free. It is yours. I was made this way. There’s nothing wrong with it. And I don’t have to ‘fit in’. I’m unique…just like everyone else. I am accepted. I’m not abandoned. I’m free to be…ME. My personality is mine, but it doesn’t define me.

Education: Thank you that I have the freedom and opportunity for further education. I let it go. It is yours. It doesn’t matter that its taken 20 years to get to almost completion. I’ll complete it when I complete it. A degree does not, nor what the degree is in, define me.

Friendships/Relationships: Thank you for all the amazing people in my life, both close and acquaintance. I am rich. I let them all go. They are yours. Who they are, how they make me feel, the choices they make, their status or position or place in this life…do not define who I am. I am rich simply because they are in my world.

Beauty: Thank you, for beauty that is in everything. I let go of my interpretation. It is yours. All things are beautiful, including me. My interpretation or understanding or ‘feeling’ about it doesn’t make it null and void; and my understanding does not define who I am.

Body: Thank you for the body I was given. I let it go. It is yours. Whoever decided worth was tied to something we have no control over…shot. The shape of my body and the creative places you placed dimples and blemishes does not define me.

Creativity:  Thank you for my creativity; both with my hands and in my vision; that I see the world with multi-dimensional and colorful goggles; that the way I perceive life is unique. I set it free. It is yours. I do not need people to understand it or relate to it or share it. I don’t need validation of it. It is a part of me, but it does not define me.

ME: Thank you, that I was knit together in my mother’s womb; that I was fearlessly and wonderfully made; that I am clothed with strength and dignity. I set me free. I am yours.

Life: Thank you, for life. All of it. The good stuff, the bad stuff, the confusing stuff, the complex stuff, the joyful stuff, the beautiful stuff, the hard stuff, the amazing stuff, the mountain moment stuff, the desert stuff. The wonder of this life is as diverse as the topography of the world. I let it all go. It is yours. All things mentioned here and all things forgotten or unspoken. The terrain and the journey do not define me.

All that matters is now and the glory in this moment.

With palms open wide, I let go, and I receive.