busy

“ ‘I am so busy.’ We say this to one another with no small degree of pride, as if our exhaustion were a trophy, our ability to withstand stress a mark of real character. The busier we are, the more important we seem to ourselves and, we imagine, to others. To be unavailable to our friends, and family, to be unable to find time for the sunset, to whiz through our obligations without time for a single mindful breath, this has become the model of a successful life.”

–Wayne Muller

Psalm 131

1 Lord, my heart is not proud;
my eyes are not haughty.
I don’t concern myself with matters too great
or too awesome for me to grasp.
2 Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, put your hope in the Lord—
now and always.

how to deal with stress

i was talking to one of my mentors at home recently, and she said something that i've hidden in my heart for safe keeping, and i want to share it with you, too. it's quite simple, actually. basically, it's the idea that we are not citizens of this world. even though we live here, our citizenship is not here, but in Heaven (we are IN the world, but not OF the world). often we forget to live our daily lives with this simple yet incredibly crucial fact in mind. because our lives don't end here by any means, there is no reason for us to worry about the little things, and keeping the state of our citizenship in mind can help us judge what is great and what is small in light of eternity. lately, as i've been going through some tough times with my parents getting divorced, i've been tempted to allow satan to trap me in worry - to convince me that my problems are huge and all-consuming... but we have to remember that he is the father of lies and aims to deceive above all else. even though it is a large, complicated problem, in light of eternity, it is a very temporary problem - not something that i can allow to hinder my life of freedom in christ and my pressing onward in pursuing righteousness. don't allow lies to permeate the truths you know and love and that have been etched upon your heart by God.

be joyful! the Lord our God is mighty to save! He has already won, and we are to walk in that path He has laid before us, constantly handing over to Him our worries, our stress, and our hurts.

"do not be anxious about anythiing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." -phil. 4:6

so let me seem until i become so

so let me seem, until i become so:
do not divest me of my white garment!
i am hastening from the beautiful earth
down to that impregnable house.

there i shall rest a little while in tranquility,
then a fresh vision will open up;
i shall leave behind then the pure raiment,
the girdle and the wreath.
and those heavenly beings
do not concern themselves with man and woman,
and no garments,
no robes,
cover the transfigured body.

true, i have lived without trouble and toil,
yet i have felt deep pain enough.
through sorrow i have aged too early --
o make me forever young again!

-j.w. von goethe
"mignon III: so lasst mich scheinen, bis ich werde" - hugo wolf

the parent trap

Singing Christmas songs at the Shane & Shane concert was particularly hard for me. I never realized how fast Christmas was coming and how unprepared I am for its coming. As we burst into a joyful chorus of “O Come, Let Us Adore Him”, a song that is always sung on Christmas Eve at my church, complete with booming organ blaring behind me, it all just hit me at once – the realization that Christmas is never going to be the same again. My favorite holiday, shaped by my family’s traditions, will never exist in its familiar context again. And I just wish there were some way that I could have known that last Christmas – that it literally was my last Christmas, in a sense. Sure, it’s been going downhill for a few years in terms of Christmas spirit, but never would I have guessed that it was all about to blow up in my face 3 months later.

I’m very aware of the true reason we celebrate Christmas and of the insignificance of our own cultural traditions in light of the meaning of Christ’s birth, but please allow me to explain a concept that many Wheaton students are beyond blessed to never have experienced: when Christ isn’t the center of your family, all you’ve got are your traditions. When Christ isn’t even a part of your family, and then your family decides to disband, and then it becomes very clear exactly how important your traditions were as the glue that held your dying family together, the loss of those seemingly insignificant yet incredibly significant traditions seems like the end of the world. And the realization of the very tip of the iceberg that is that loss for me and for my family suddenly and shockingly hit me on Saturday night.

The fact is that I’m grieving. I am just embarking on a long journey of mourning the loss of family, which ultimately for me translates into the loss of a sense of security, a sense of belonging, and a sense of being loved. My entire concept of “home” (not just the physical but also the conceptual) has been completely ransacked as my house that I’ve lived in for 17 years recently sold and as I receive text messages throughout the day from my family while they’re sorting through my stuff without me. My parents attempt to encourage me by reassuring me that I’ll always have a home, that there will always be a place for me… but the truth is that providing a roof over my head does not and cannot replace what it means to have a “home”. Sometimes Wheaton can feel like a home, but at the end of the day, it’s every man for himself. At the end of the day, I return to my single room at Williston 314 and am alone without a family. I don’t return to traditions, to unconditional love, or even to the green door with the little, barking corgi in the window.

It pains me to have finally accepted the fear that’s been looming over my head since that day in March. I’ll never have a family again until it’s my own – my husband and my children. I’ll never have a “home” again until it’s a place where I can open the door at the end of a long day and find a sense of unconditional love and a true sense of belonging, sprinkled with meaningful traditions yet founded and grounded on the rock that is Christ.

I used to watch the old movie version of “The Parent Trap” when I was little, getting so excited for the part where the twins put on a dinner show for their estranged parents, and they sing that catchy song that goes, “Let’s get together, yeah yeah yeah”. However, the one thing that I never understood about the movie was why in the world 2 kids would even try to get their divorced parents back together again. What a ridiculous, impractical idea! That never happens in real life, and when their plan actually works at the end of the movie, I was amazed every time. Now, as I move through this season of grief, no longer a child yet mercilessly caught in the middle of nothing less that a tragedy, I find myself yearning to believe in “The Parent Trap” and longing to see a ridiculous, impractical movie miracle happen in my own life. I stand in the midst of tragedy with a childlike sorrow in my eyes, wishing with all my heart for a miracle that can’t happen.

You swear your whole life that it will never in a million years happen to you… but the truth is that you’ll never know.

a painful risk

“...and the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” –Anaïs Nin

"She stood there, leafy camouflage fallen away and bare bark exposed, reaching her arms into the darkness, unafraid. A reminder of the easy grace that comes from not hiding and the simple paradox that strength comes from mounting no defenses."
-Megan Lane

I am finding myself somewhere in between these two states of being… somewhere in between the painful risk of refusing to hide and the relief that comes from letting down the walls.

One of the things I have really been striving to do this summer is to honestly claim who I am in the exact place in which I am without making excuses or apologies. The time I have spent in isolation has brought about a lot of new perspective, but it has also brought a lot of personal issues to the surface that have been compressed and stifled for a long time, and I cannot pretend that the process of addressing them is not a painful one.

I want to be honest about the ways in which I have changed this summer, and part of that honestly involves a mutual understanding that pain is an ever-present factor in my life. I believe in a God who not only cultivates my pain and uses it for purpose, but who purposefully has me walk through pain for a purpose. But I will be honest about the fact that it’s not fun; it’s hard, and it’s raw, and it’s brutal, and I hate it.

I am committing to honesty in my life, to refusing to put on the “everything is great” exterior, because I want people to see that pain is a part of my story, that my pain points to the face of the Lord, Jesus Christ, that my pain is the reason why I am who I am, and that the Lord has done amazing things in my life through pain.

Part of this honesty that I feel I am being called to involves addressing the pain it takes to embrace myself. I have reached a point where it hurts more to hide than it does to openly claim myself for exactly who I am; yet, it still hurts to claim myself. It is a rocky journey, one that (in my life) can feel very positive and productive one day yet can also feel terribly shattering the next. One of the things I am learning is that a productive day for me isn’t always a positive one. Sometimes, what is most productive for me on any given day might involve great sadness, anger, and depression coupled with the time it takes to process through these emotions. But you see, I am free. I am not in bondage any more to these emotions. I am free because I am allowing myself to feel when I need to feel. I am allowing myself to come to terms with my human need to process anger constructively, my need dwell in sadness at times, and my need to channel the murky confusion of depression. Simply allowing ALL my emotions a place to run their course is a huge step for me; ceasing to patronize myself for feeling negativity has been a huge breakthrough for me.

Yet, there is fear in my heart. It is easy to find freedom in being who I am when I have lived practically alone in isolation for three months… but going back to Wheaton, a campus where everyone feels the need to love Jesus and smile more than the person sitting next to them terrifies me. I don’t know if Wheaton wants all of me – if it wants my brutal emotional honesty or my refusal to hide for the sake of promoting a “better” image.

I guess it doesn’t matter…. because I am going back to school in 6 days, and there is no stopping that.

restoration

Sometimes I wake up and I long for more. There are days when my normal life suits me just fine… when mundane tasks and normal schedules are fine with me, and sometimes refreshing… Yet there are other days-- days like today-- when I say to myself, “Charlotte… you have to do something with your life”… and the “something” can’t just be anything ordinary. Although I’ve always felt that passion has been an integral part of my personality since the day I took my first breath, living this summer for the first time as completely an adult and for the first time in isolation has taught me immeasurable lessons...lessons that I plan to write about over the next month out of fear of forgetting them but also out of joy in sharing the contentment that I have found.

Anyone who knows me vaguely well knows that I find great enjoyment in coffee shops, not only for the fact that they have coffee, but mostly because of the atmosphere. My favorite coffee shops are in Hillsboro village in Nashville. I like them so much because they provide an atmosphere that I find myself most at ease in; I kick my flip flops off, sink into a comfy chair, and lounge in the tranquil summer heat, reading, reflecting, writing, sipping on something delicious, and lavishing in the sights and sounds and smells that are the wonderful city that is Nashville … cars whizzing by, music always playing in every direction, the candle waxy sun melting down on me, the light breeze teasing my hair. I’m not hard to please. I miss my home for these reasons, and I plan to spend some time doing these things when I go back to visit next week.

Today is Saturday, glorious Saturday – the day that nothing is required of me and the time is all mine… and I was thinking Borders. Not only does Borders have coffee, comfy chairs, and big windows with sunshine streaming through, but they have BOOKS! Lots and lots and lots of them! Honestly, what more could I want? Although I came with the intention of studying, that intention quickly faded as I walked past the magazines. I love magazines simply for the pictures.

I would say that six months ago, had I walked into Borders, I would have made a beeline directly to that section. You know… THAT section… the one with Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, Glamour, Redbook, Good Housekeeping, Lucky, Elle, Vogue, InStyle… THOSE magazines that tell me how I’m supposed to define myself… what I’m supposed to look like, dress like, act like, how I’m supposed to flip my hair as I walk, apply the correct shade of lipstick, and make a man fall in love with me. Six months ago, those things mattered to me... those things defined me… and every time I didn’t “measure up”, a tiny piece of me would die inside whether I acknowledged it or not.

Today, I walked into Borders, took one look at that section, and walked past it, uninterested. Instead, I picked up a literary magazine combining photography and writing, a craft magazine, and southern living (just for old times’ sake). I flip through, fingering the pages tenderly, relishing the beauty on the page as my mind slips into the photograph, my heart washing away with the ocean and my soul lying bare on the page.

I am a passionate, courageous, strong woman because I serve a god who teaches me that true beauty is found in the simplicity of His creation… that I am loved beyond measure even as the world shouts at me that I am worth nothing, I deserve nothing, and I am nothing… He teaches me that I am beautifully broken, which allows Him to make me perfectly whole… that I suffer because in my suffering, I find rest with Him in the knowledge that I share in His sacrifice for me. Because of my God, my ability to love far exceeds that of this world… and I continue to pour myself out on this bleeding world that He made, that He loves so deeply, loving and loving and loving and giving until I have nothing left to give…. And then turning my face to Him, feeling Him shine on me and hold me close, healing me, restoring me, nurturing me, and whispering softly in my ear… “You are mine. I will never let you go. I love you."

worth it

one thing god is teaching me is the exact depth of his perfection. as a woman who has relied on other people throughout her entire life to make or break her happiness, it can be frustrating, even devastating when someone doesn't come through. when someone else can't be everything i need, it is easy to let my world fall apart. unfortunately, this hurts the other person... what huge responsibility! and it hurts me too... what huge expectations in a being as infallible as a human! yet, god is PERFECT. god doesn't fall through for me when i have needs. god is a perfect father in every way. i can call on him at any point, even late at night or early in the morning, and he will be there for me 100%. he won't leave me dragging my feet through the desert sand, feeling so thirsty and finding no water in sight... or worse, finding only enough water for one sip.... a sip that teases me enough to torment me with hope but not enough to quench me, as friendship can often do. just knowing his name is like water... just in calling him my abba. just meditating on his peace is sometimes more than i can deal with at once.

i am overwhelmed with how much i owe him, how broken i find myself before him, yet how much he has provided so that i am now called a royal priesthood...a holy nation...... ......beloved daughter. those words sting me deeply in an incomprehensible way.... i don't understand the depth of those words, and i do not understand that love... but i know how much i want it. i want it so badly that my body aches for it... my heart cries out to comprehend it... my soul thirsts to know what it means to be cherished. and yet, the lord does not waste my suffering. it is worth it. it is worth it for me to suffer for his purposes. he is worth my suffering. this song could not explain it better:

"worth it all" - rita springer

"i don't understand your ways.... oh but i will give you my song! give you all of my praise. you hold on to my pain, and with it you are pulling me closer... pulling me into your ways.

around every corner and up every mountain, i'm not looking for crowns or the water from fountains. i'm desperate in seeking, frantic believing that the sight of your face is all that i need.

and i will say to you... it's gonna be worth it all."


lord jesus, you say that i am worth it.... i am worth it to you. even if i am not worth it to anyone else lord... i am worth it to you...

abba, teach me what it means to FEEL worth it.

i want favor with you.

everything is ending

my devastation floods me, as do my tears. eighteen years of life, MY life, are packed into boxes all around me, casually strewn aside. these walls, MY walls, are the color of sea mist, not lavender. MY room WAS lavender. i will, from this point on, forever hate sea mist with all of my being. my stuffed animals are in a trash bag. the air smells like paint fumes.

this room has held my life and breath, my laughter, my tears, my fear, my anxiety. these walls have witnessed my deepest pain and my greatest disparity, and now, all of the sudden, they are being torn away from me without my permission. this sacred space that has held me and always taken me as i am is being violated as i stand by, looking on helplessly. there is NOTHING i can do.

everything is ending. eighteen full years of a family struggling and fighting to survive have been sentenced to death. never more will i trust my mother blindly because never before has there been a time when mother most assuredly has NOT known best. never before have i seen my father in a state of such helplessness, such powerlessness, such sadness. any dreams i ever had of a happily ever after are gone, crushed by the weight of a broken family forever, even if it won't always be my immediate family. i find myself asking simple questions like, "what will my wedding look like?" "what will christmas be like?" and bigger questions, like, "who do i love more?" "what do i do with my anger?" "how do i love my mother when she is the root of such tragedy?" she makes me want to tear my clothing and scream -- out of pain that can't be numbed, out of confusion she won't resolve, out of complete despair and loneliness and longing to be genuinely loved in such a time of utter need.

my wheaton friends are all gone & back with their happy, healthy, and godly families while my family stares uncomfortably as i pray a silent prayer over my food, something i have never had enough courage to do before. i miss my 3 west girls who have a knack for easily taking my mind off the situation, yet i also miss my nashville friends, many of whom are not a part of my life anymore because they have chosen to remove themselves from it. the few faithful ones are the ones who have watched me grow and struggle and mourn and laugh and thrive, and they know me at my core -- they know the girl who always asked too many questions for her own good and spent way too much time interested in the minute, seemingly unimportant details of their lives. now i long for these friendships, but in their old contexts -- before they got married, had babies, moved half way across the country for college, made new and cooler friends, changed their morals, and fell out of love with god.

and where is my god anyways?? where is he while my world is crashing down around me, while my walls are being painted sea mist and my friends are leaving me for three months? where is he when my dad is trying to assure his daughter that it's going to work out, yet inside, he is panicking because he has no idea? where is he when my closest friend isn't sad to leave me behind, but i'm trying to pick up the pieces?

i wonder if mary ever felt like this. did she ever feel abandoned by god, her family, and her friends all at the same time? if so, i got just what i asked for. maybe i should stop praying to be like mary.

the city

there is just something freeing
in shuffling through the spinning glass doors at the train station
and being slapped in the face with CITY:
horns honking.
change jingling in homeless people's cups.
high heels clicking.
a thousand different cell phone conversations.
wind - always wind.
the heat of the sun beating down on scorching pavement.
lights, posters, signs, billboards -
words demanding my attention in every direction.
bus exhaust.
stinky sewers.
nail polish fumes streaming out of the salon.
that unmistakable aroma of italian food.
and MOVEMENT.
constant movement.
it doesn't wait for anyone.
this is the city, and i love it.

i somehow feel the liberation among the hustle and bustle
to be whomever i want to be.
swimming in a sea of faces,
nobody knows me.
i am my own secret.
i have every power to cast off
all preconceived notions of self,
stripping myself of the layers
of image,
of expectation,
of fear of man,
of incompetence.
i can do anything in the city.

i sail down the river in the canary colored boat,
slicing through ocher waters,
arms open wide,
camera in hand,
basking in the sunshine
and the motion of the city,
the wind flipping my hair across my face,
my lens capturing tiny bits of life with every click
to be treasured later.

in the mean time,
i savor every second,
wishing it to never end...
this outward outpouring of creativity,
this living, breathing wellspring of energy,
this eternal pulsing of color.
filled with wonder,
i'm rendered breathless
in my sparkling ocean of life.

unsafe

i am an emotional fugitive… a running a wandering traveler. safety is an unknown ideal for me. i have no safe home. my house in tennessee was never a safe home. it wasn’t even a home. when I go back there to visit, i feel the same old feeling of shadowy isolation and confinement creep over me… and I’m reminded oh so clearly of the eighteen years i spent hiding my heart under a rock and fighting (physically, emotionally, literally, and metaphorically) to keep my head above the flood.

i miss my orange leaves on the autumn trees, popsicles in the park, coffee and spirituality, bluegrass and the friends to sing it with me, breezy summer nights, tea and blankets, walking barefoot down the country road….

I miss my tennessee.

yet, I do not miss it. how I can I miss a place so unsafe? all it takes is one day back, and everything is still the same as it always was… heartache chasing me, a fight around ever corner, and longing for a freedom I will never have there.

that cannot be my home.

and yet, this place cannot be my home. after living my whole life in bondage to fear, i finally embraced the long-awaited day that i could find healing, justification, and acceptance in utter honesty… in stunning vulnerability… in quiet grace…

yet, this place is not safe for me. my friendships are devastatingly unsafe, my feelings bleed steadily, and while all of this is happening, I am expected to maintain the appearance of a carefree woman, sewn together neatly at the seams with the standard white thread.

i’m supposed to be “fine… how are you?”

i have slowly come to the realization that I will never be safe anywhere… with anyone. i will be running for the rest of my life.

and right now, all i want is just to run away to somewhere else… messy hair, mascara-stained cheeks, bare feet…. i don’t even care this time. just let me run.

i am a people pleaser.

sometimes, it's just really hard to make everybody happy. am i the only one who gets stressed over this? i desperately want people to be happy and pleased with me. i want to say the right words at the right time to the right person, and when i say wrong words at the wrong time, it's really frustrating to me. i know i should give myself some grace sometimes, but seriously.... when someone is frustrated with me, i can't stand it. i want to make things right so badly sometimes that i overcorrect... i try to cover all my bases so efficiently and appologetically that sometimes people are like.... "charlotte. just forget it." and it's over. but i just wanted to do everything right. maybe i do appologize too much...but it's out of my own fear of disappointing someone, of letting someone down. i don't mean to applogize for who i am.... but sometimes all i wish for is to fit perfectly for someone else, and there's a tiny, fragile piece of me that longs to change to fit that ideal instead of having to appologize.

i want to fix things for people, even when it has nothing to do with me. i have no idea what inclines me to want this. not being able to fix things for people is heartbraking, especially people i love. i hate dealing with the fact that some things cannot be fixed... or that we have to wait on god to fix them. that is hard. sometimes, i get so caught up in genuinely wanting to make everything right that people have to stop me and tell me they don't WANT me to fix it. they just wanted to vent. i'm fine with this (sometimes i want this too!), and i only wish i could have better judgment about when someone wants help and when they just want to talk at me.

i want to be everything for everybody, and when i fail, i fall hard. i want to be perfect for certain people and good enough for everyone else... and when i don't measure up, it's hard. i wish everyone could know how sincere i am when i appologize...how much i really am sorry for every time i fail and how much i wish i could be better. i feel like i spend too much time worrying if people are mad at me: worrying if that K-9 police guy was going to pull me over for going 90 on the interstate to get to my friend's wedding (he didn't!), or if my neighbor is going to call my mom about her plants being dead because i kind of forgot to water them as much as she asked me to while she was gone....oops.... they're just plants!!! come on!!!! the list is endless! i mess up a lot. it kind of stinks. but i love people- a lot! does that count? for anything?

thank goodness jesus makes up for my shortcomings.

scars

moving to college has been such a huge transition for me.... and i have missed my church and my supportive mentors at home so much..... in a sense, i feel like i've suffered a good amount in the last month, and i haven't allowed myself to process that. i keep pushing it to the back of my mind to avoid it.... to avoid feeling broken about it.... but i realized today that it's a part of this process, and i'm trying to allow myself to be more openly broken right now.

brokenness is good. brokenness is beautiful. and what i'm learning is that not everyone will embrace my brokenness... not everyone will see that it's productive, or how it's shaped me into who i am, or even that it continues to grow and change me for the better... not everyone will see god in the middle of my mess. sometimes i don't even see him... but i know he is there. and what i'm realizing is that i can't let these people convince me that i am fallen because of what has happened to me. not everyone is going to understand. To some people, this pain looks disgusting… it looks like scars that cover me up, and it might look like it’s impossible to get to me without uncovering the scars one by one. Well, it’s true. My past and my pain are a part of me. they don’t go away, even though I can hide them sometimes… but I’m on this journey to this place where I won’t feel the need to hide them anymore. I’m trying to get to a place where I am no longer ashamed or afraid of the ways that god has allowed me to suffer and therefore has shaped me into this creation that he loves.

God has been reminding me constantly how deeply he loves me and how desperate he is for my whole heart… and he continues to tell me this because he knows that some will not understand this journey I’m on…. This journey he is calling me to. He wants me to know how loved I am even when it is not immediately tangible. He is teaching me to love myself despite the scars and the places that are embarrassing, hurtful, and hard to talk about. I truly DO find my worth in the lord… I find that I am treasured, secure, cherished, a royal priesthood, a daughter of the king. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that my worth can’t be measured in earthly standards. Sometimes it feels so important to be valued in another person’s eyes that it is so easy to forget about god’s sovereign promise of where I stand and whose I am. I belong to him… I am his child of promise. I have learned all summer long about how much god loves me, and if I would seek worth in anyone, it would be him.

The thing is, I don’t wear this mask anymore. I refuse to let the world scare me into a corner of cowardice by telling me I have to pretend to be unbroken. Not only will I honestly admit that I have brokenness in my life, but i’m not afraid to talk about it. I have come to terms with honesty in the sense that I am tired of hiding. I have been hiding for years, trying to fit so many molds, when really, god just wanted me to be me. I am tired of answering that I’m “fine” if I’m not… and so I try hard not to... and people seem shocked by that. Imagine what the world would be like if we all provided honest answers to the question “how are you?” on a regular basis? I dare you to try it and see how people respond to you. I will not hide in suffering… not only because I am honest, but because I know that God “works for the good of those who love him”, and I know that he is using my pain for good. He does not waste my hurt… he is using my past to chasten me, to teach me, and to instill in me a sense of compassion… a choice I am making because I was not shown compassion for so many years of my life. I choose to overflow with compassion upon those who blame me for my scars, because god is calling me to be a bondage breaker…. I am being raised up in Christ to break the destructive patterns in my family of bitterness, anger, tearing others down, rejecting religion, apathy, abuse, selfishness… the list goes on and on… I am a warrior on this earth, fighting what is easy… what is so natural for me, even in the home I grew up in. I refuse to allow these things to continue! They stop with me! I never thought I could ever say this, but praise be to the Lord for placing me in a home that would teach me the meaning of pain so that I will never allow a tolerance for that destruction around me and in my own home as long as I can help it. thank the lord for teaching me the meaning of pain so that I can literally mourn with those in my life who mourn. Thank the lord for scarring me so that I bear battle wounds for the lessons he has taught me and the new life he brought to me in the midst of toil. These scars do not rule me, but in fact, they make me beautiful. They make me a real, honest, COMPLETE woman. I no longer believe that scars leave me broken, but scars contribute to my WHOLENESS in Christ that he is providing me day after day. And I am not ashamed to say that I am recovering… that I am still healing. Every day is not perfect… some days are struggles and other days are days of healing… but here I am. This is who I am. I lift my eyes to the hills, and it is God who sustains me... it is in Christ that I find my worth…. It is in the Lord that I find shalom, the ultimate peace…. It is in the power of the Lord’s love that I find the strength to love myself…. All of myself…. Even the scars. Even the past…. Because the creator of the universe looks at me and says I am beloved… he who began a good work in me will complete it…. and God says that is enough. God says his love is enough for me… his grace is enough for me… and I refuse to seek my worth in the eyes of man. i am broken and beautiful.