Jesus humbled himself, even unto death … Philippians 2:8
UGH! I wanted to tear out my hair in frustration! Nothing was going right. Or, write. I just couldn’t seem to get it together, my thoughts, my plans, my life. The things I knew I could do, suddenly, I could not. Everything was falling apart. I wanted to scream. Mentally, I did. The layout of my book mocked me, taunting me. I felt defeated. No matter how I came at it, I was no closer to a solution.
After beating myself up for several attempts spread out over many days, I finally asked God for help. Then I wondered why I hadn’t done it before. I knew that He could and would. Please, I prayed, at my wits’ end. Help me. And then the answer presented itself.
“You should try …” the voice began, only I knew it did not belong to me. I gasped as everything fell into place, just as it should. I did it!
Elated over the wonder of my accomplishment, it occurred to me the true reason for my success after failing so many times. Not only did I ask for help, but I was so frustrated that I admitted my helplessness in the face of my problem. I surrendered it to One I knew could help. And this is how I came to realize I’ve never truly surrendered my life to God. With my mouth, I had. But on that day, I truly did. Take it, please! I cried, realizing that I was ultimately helpless. Do with me what you will, Lord! I don’t want to wrestle with my life’s problems any longer.
If you’re like me, you may have fallen for the trap of being strong in the face of the many obstacles that life may send your way. I kept telling myself to push forward. On the other side of that barrier was the very thing I wanted if I was only strong enough to persevere. But as I basked in the afterglow of my victory, I realized I won not because I was strong but because I surrendered. And therein lay my true strength, His strength, made perfect in my weakness. He was just waiting to save me. All I needed to do was surrender my ego, my right to say I overcame in my own power.
Similarly, Jesus humbled Himself to the cross. When the Pharisees came for Jesus, Peter jumped to his master’s defense and cut off the ear of a soldier. But Jesus admonished Peter. “I could have a legion of angels at my beck and call,” he basically said. If he’d wanted. But it was not for Jesus to gain an advantage over his persecutors that day. He couldn’t win in that way. Chess, not checkers. He resisted the human ego that said he must be in charge, that he must triumph, and any urges to display his power. He surrendered to his fate, knowing that there was where the true power laid. He surrendered because of the glory set before him and the promise of deliverance for us all.
Be blessed,
Loria
P.S. Look for updates in the coming weeks to anticipate the release of book four in the Touched series! New website, new look, new book, COMING SOON! Click the link to access the entire series and get ready for the best sequel EVER! I’m excited and I just know you will love it!
Also, I’ve partnered with Story Origin and other authors to get the word out about Touched. If you’re looking for more good reads, check them out here:
It’s been a while, Wordies! Like most of you, I’ve been bogged down with the cares of this world during a pandemic. However, that hasn’t kept me from writing! I’m so excited about upcoming events and just wanted to share a few updates:
Be on the lookout for a new website, new look, and maybe even a new web address!
I’ve partnered with Story Origin! I’m exploring new marketing opportunities to get the word out about the Touched series. Key links will be posted at the end of the newsletter going forward.
AND … (drum roll, please!) I’ve nearly completed the finishing touches on my upcoming novel, Pale Rider! I can’t wait to share it with you.
Of course, it’s holy week and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t share a word from scripture with my fans. It continues to be my goal to make God’s word relatable for it is truly needed during troubling times.
“So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him.”Matthew 7:11
On Good Friday, Rocco, the wonder dog, fell sick like he’s never been before. We (my daughter, his doggie mom, and I) were helpless in the face of his illness. For me, it was reminiscent of the days when my children were small and couldn’t tell me what was wrong. Our playful pup (though he’s eight years old now, he still has boundless energy) was rendered lethargic and wouldn’t eat. Off to the ER he and my daughter went, for that was the only place that would take him on such short notice, and we knew the bill would be hefty. But she couldn’t let cost be a deterrent. We would do whatever was needed to heal our doggie baby.
Thankfully, he’s home now and expected to make a full recovery. Once the immediate danger had passed, I was drawn back to my reflections for this time of year. Of all Christian holidays, this is the most important and always humbles me. That God would do this for me. To save me. He thought I was important enough to die for and that no cost was too great. Immortal God, who cannot die, wrapped himself in flesh so that he could. He paid the penalty in such a complete fashion that he announced, “It is finished.” Forever finalized. No reneging. No take backsies. Done.
Thinking of Rocco and how my daughter would not rest when she saw how sick he was, how she couldn’t stop until she had found a remedy for his situation, I was reminded that she is now a mom, too, if only to a canine. His life is just as important to her as any child she could bear. She thought he was worth anything she could do to save him.
I think it’s important that we relate to Jesus, to put ourselves in his shoes, and understand why he did what he did. He went through a whole lot of trouble to identify with humanity so we could do just that. He became human and lived as one of us, died as one of us, but with an important difference. He rose victorious, with all power, and conquered death, for our sake. So there’s really no mystery why God set a plan for our salvation in motion from the foundation of the world. God is our Father. He loves us, immeasurably. And like earthly parents, He would do anything to save us. And he did, not stopping at sacrificing even his own skin.
I’m thankful for His example of love during this most holy week. We’ve been through so much with the pandemic and the loss of loved ones during the past twelve months. To be reminded that his love endures is powerful. I see it in my love for my children and my daughter’s love for her furry baby. Rocco, like all of us, is much loved.
Be blessed,
Loria
P.S. Look for updates in the coming weeks to anticipate the release of book four in the Touched series! New website, new look, new book, COMING SOON! Click the link to access the first novel (FREE!) and get ready for the best sequel EVER! I’m excited and I just know you will love it!
Also, I’ve partnered with Story Origin and other authors to get the word out about Touched. If you’re looking for more good reads, check them out here:
Whew! Cooking the Thanksgiving meal is a big deal! As a cook, you want all your dishes to turn out just right so you can be proud of the dinner you serve. You plan, you shop, preparing for every contingency so that your efforts will be well received. And if you leave out one thing – let me just say that if I turn up without ham and potato salad, there will be an uproar. All these details just for one meal (okay, and yummy leftovers).
I recall a few years ago, I moved into a home that did not have central air. I thought we could deal with it. But summer began early and was in full effect that year. It was so hot, my daughter and I were melting in the heat. My dog, Rocco, walked around the house, his eyes pleading and full of abject misery. Help me, he said with his eyes. His tongue hung out as he panted while trying to cool off. My daughter and I could have probably toughed it out, but my rottweiler? Not so much.
So, I bought window air conditioners only to be stymied at their installation. Some things I’ve just never learned to do, sad to admit, so the prospect of doing it myself was off-putting. The instructions looked intimidating with all their verbiage and pictures. Daunted, I put off their installation, even going so far as to purchase a portable unit that should have been easier to install. An abominable failure, let me tell you. It made the house HOTTER, somehow. But I was still afraid to tackle the challenge of installing the window units. I even tried to hire someone to put them in, without success (the fellow almost laughed at me). Firm in my resolve, I set out to solve my dilemma. My daughter and I successfully installed air conditioners without further preamble and I found that all I really needed was to change my mindset from I can’t to I must. I had no choice. Rocco was depending on me. But I let myself be defeated early on because of my phobia of instruction sheets.
I’ve been listening to the Bible on Audible, lately. (I finally found a version that works for me and my devices and that I like. We fit well together.) It seems that having someone else read the scriptures, dramatically, at that, is breathing new life into them for me. As each reading truly should, LOL! I decided to start, in the beginning, at Genesis and just make my way forward. Sometimes, though, when it veers away from simple tales to specific information it can be hard to digest and my eyes glaze over just a bit. As previously stated, it’s overwhelming for me to take in all of that detailed data. In particular, the dimensions of Noah’s ark, the minute instructions for creating and constructing the tabernacle, and statistical information wreak havoc with my ability to comprehend. But as I drove while listening to Exodus after they crossed the Red Sea and God gave Moses the law, this scripture caught my attention:
“Make pomegranates of blue, purple, and scarlet yarn all the way around the lower hem, with gold bells between them, so that gold bells and pomegranates alternate around the lower hem of the robe.” Exodus 28:33
I thought, Lord, what do you want me to learn from this? Why was it important for the Israelites to know all the details of even Aaron’s outfit? This scripture accounted for the design of his royal, priestly garb, right down to the hem of his robe which alternated pomegranates and bells. Huh? Why be so precise? Unbelievable that even this small detail, seemingly insignificant, would matter to God. It struck me then that God revels in detail. He is a God of order. There is a saying that goes, the devil is in the details but I think we have it rather wrong. God can be found there.
The pomegranate may have been merely decorative or a placeholder. But the bell served a specific purpose. Only when Aaron put on these garments could he enter into service and the bell was for his protection. When the bell tinkled as he walked in, the next verse tells us, he would not die. The bells announced his coming and also foretold who he was, his position and God-given authority. It set Aaron apart from the rest of the congregation. Anyone entering without that authorization would die. When I enter into my secure office building, I have a key fob. The door will not open without authenticating who I am and I am meant to be there. Isn’t that amazing? God set up a system of secure identification before computers. Cool.
So God gave Moses a detailed instruction sheet more daunting than my AC unit installation. Predictably, my head swam trying to digest the information. Until I realized that as all of the pieces of my AC unit had a purpose, so did God’s individual pieces. Then God revealed his true reason for taking me to that scripture. He created me and you with just as much detail in mind and when he was done, there were no random, mystery pieces left over that he didn’t know what to do with. He had a specific purpose for creating us and designed us with that in mind. My body is not the result of a random selection of genes from my mother and father. God made me purposely this way. Intentionally.
My sister is a baker of beautifully designed, haute couture cakes. Once, she put together her batter, put it in the oven, only to realize she forgot a crucial ingredient. She later mourned her outcome, saying: I put my good butter in that cake! She always uses good butter, by the way, and premium ingredients to ensure she achieves the desired end result, but I always thought that was funny. With those words, she revealed herself to be our mother’s daughter and a great baker, who would never want to waste good food on a subpar effort.
Our Father is like that, too. He created each of us with premium ingredients, using his “good butter,” too! He knows what he put in our construction and his designs were unique for all of us. He saw this world and decided that it needed one of you to make it better. And when He was done, he saw it was good. What we consider flaws may be part of his plan. For instance, many cakes require baking powder, others need baking soda instead. My sister stumbled upon that fact one day when her red velvet cake would not rise. It was still scrumptious, though! So you and I can be different and still equally delicious, LOL!
The upcoming holiday season often makes us pause and reflect on what makes us thankful. Today, I am thankful for God’s design and plan that created me, and all of us, uniquely. Purposely. Flaws and all. I’m thankful that He put detailed thought into making me. I’m thankful for everything he instilled in me, knowing that it was for a specific purpose. I’m thankful for all those precise instructions that went into the making of Loria, and you, too. And I’m so very glad he used the very best ingredients, including his “good butter.” It was for good and for me to make a difference. Now, it is up to me, and all of us, to use this life and the gifts he put in us. Let’s all choose to be a vessel that is used. It is the very best way to say thank you to our Creator. Happy Thanksgiving!
Meet me there! Better yet, beat me there, LOL! For my aspiring authors, this is a great event where you can get some of your questions answered, or some direction, on the publishing process. I’ll also have sets of Immaculate and Touched on hand!
“M is for the million things she gave me …” MOTHER, T Morse & H Johnson
And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there: And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage. And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come. His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. (John 2:1-5 KJV)
Thus began Jesus’ ministry of miracles, the very first being issued (prematurely) because of his mom. The things we do at our mothers’ insistence are innumerable. What lengths would we go to, what would we not do for them? Even Jesus bowed under the weight of that obligation, we see. He is the son of God, but also of man. Therefore, he was obedient to Mary in the same way we are commanded to honor our mothers and fathers. Okay, Mom. I made more wine, see? LOL!
Jesus, I believe, had a special bond with mothers. Show him a mom in distress and he was moved to action. Consider the story where Jesus came upon a funeral bier, that of a woman about to lay her son to rest. She must have been bereft, inconsolable. Her husband had died previously and now her only son, her only means of support, was gone also. What would she do? How could she provide for herself? Not to mention, she had lost her son, her light, her future and the very thing that made her a mother. She had lost her identity. So Jesus, seeing her in mourning, was moved to compassion. He raised her son from the dead and restored both of their lives. Her fortune and future were now more secure. She had her son back.
Nothing could move Jesus like a mother, I think. No other feeling on earth is so closely patterned after his love for us. He lamented the state of Jerusalem and said he often wanted to gather them under his wings as a hen gathers her chicks (Matthew 23:37). This is the very picture of motherly love and protection. His relationship with his mother was that of any man, I feel. He was so concerned with her well being after his time here on earth was over, that he gave her his beloved disciple, John, in his stead. Woman, behold thy son! (John 19:26) In other words, try not to miss me so much, Mom. John will be here to comfort you. But more importantly, just as in the case of the woman in the funeral procession, he gave her a live son. He left a comforter in his place. It is no wonder to me that Jesus so easily acquiesced to Mary’s request. It speaks to their relationship and how he felt about her.
With this upcoming Mother’s Day, I’m ruminating on some of the things that make me who I am, mother and daughter. I remember the things my MaDear has done for me. Her love has no limits. And because I am a mother, too, I now know how that feels. As her daughter, I know what it is to be moved to do something, even though objecting, but still doing it because she asked. Did I ever create a miracle for her? I suppose I must have because my own children have done so for me many times, unknowingly. I recall the first Mother’s Day my children honored me. They were so small but old enough to talk. My son and daughter were led to the front of the church, the microphone put before them and coaxed to say: Happy Mother’s Day! Tears streamed down my face in surprise. For some reason, it wasn’t real until that moment. I was overcome for some time after that. A man remarked to me later, “That was the first time you realized it was about you!” Exactly. I was a mother. I was the revered one. Wow. That still floors me.
I also remember the day my brother taught us to love and honor our mother. He took us to a store that was filled with glass things. My eyes were wide as he showed us the gift he’d picked out for MaDear. It was a glass punch bowl with little cups that hung over the sides. You know the one, LOL! But we’d never seen something so beautiful. It was worthy of our mother. We were excited as she opened it because it was from US. My brother had been gracious enough to include his siblings and I also think he felt it would be worth even more to our mom to think it was from her small ones, too. For me, giving our mother that gift was the very best feeling. In giving to her, we gave to ourselves that moment of knowing we had pleased her. She got many years out of that gift set. Each time she brought it out to entertain, I remembered where she’d gotten it from. And so it continues to this present day. We’re so glad to still have her here with us and we continue to honor her. This upcoming Mother’s Day she is blessed to have it fall on her 90th birthday. We are beyond thrilled to celebrate this momentous occasion, this great coming of age with her. So Happy Birthday MaDear and Happy Mother’s Day to all. May heaven celebrate with us.
For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies.
Corinthians 15:53
As anyone who is familiar with me knows, I can be a bit of a science fiction fan. I say “a bit” because science fiction is only a small part of what I like to read and it seems to be a genre with which more folks are acquainted. But I truly love fantasy adventure, young adult fiction with supernatural leanings, specifically. It goes back to my early childhood when I used to pick up my brothers’ comic books and teach myself to read. (To this day, there are still words I mispronounce because I learned by sounding them out as best I could!) The Archie digests, Richie Rich and Casper were faves, but the superheroes! They were the best – action, adventure, super powers, villains – BAM! POW! Cartoons and comics were wonderful, colorful and self-explanatory because of the pics. They were also a great way to improve reading comprehension and vocabulary. They built my imagination and increased my sense of wonder. Because these traits outlasted my childhood, I believe they contribute to my ability to look to God for great things even today.
I also credit my growth early on as a reader (and subsequently, writer) to The Book of Beautiful Bible Stories. I read my grandmother’s illustrated copy until it fell apart. (I actually found a copy at a library book sale when my children were young. I can tell you, I am quite happy to have it in my possession!) That was pretty much it for books, as I recall, until I was sent to a new school in the fourth grade – Walt Disney Magnet School. It was as magical as it sounds and a great opportunity for my family. I enjoyed the experience immensely and still carry fond memories of my time there.
After being there a short while, I noticed certain children walking around with a book under their arm. Not a textbook, mind you, but what I know now as a paperback novel. I was curious. Why did they carry this book? Was it assigned? It wasn’t a comic or picture book and the cover was dark and depressing instead of bright and attractive. It didn’t look like your typical children’s book. Hmmm. It piqued my interest and one day, while visiting the library, I spied the tome and was able to sate my curiosity. Little did I know, The Hobbit would take me on a lifelong journey to a world where the pictures would no longer be physically necessary. Instead, I would be required to create them with my imagination. But it would not be a chore as the author went to great pains to supply plenty of clues to aid the process so that my mental picture would be complete.
Other books of the same genre soon followed, most notably, The Lord of The Rings. Movie adaptations of LOTR failed to impress, although I so much wanted to be. Then came Peter Jackson’s version of the J.R.R. Tolkien classic. At last – a movie that did justice to the book! (It’s a three part book, people – not a trilogy!) So many times I had been disappointed with Hollywood’s take on my favorite stories. This was one of the few occasions they didn’t let me down. Normally, I found The Two Towers (Part II) laborious. Not so. The battle scene was thrilling. (Orlando Bloom in tights, shooting arrows and performing an insane flip to mount his horse – need I say more?) I was even pleased with the liberties taken with the story line. The added embellishment to the secret love of Aragorn and Lady Arwen kept me enthralled. The heroes of one of my best loved tales leapt off the page and sprang to life.
And then Arwen said something that I don’t recall from the books. But I have not been able to forget it ever since. “I choose a mortal life.” It may have come from one of other, lesser known books the author created in that same world, providing a back story for the works that would become famous. It has been said of Tolkien that he was Christian and that these stories were Christian in nature. Keeping that in mind, the parallel that I drew from his character to Christ did not seem so strange.
See, Arwen was one of the Eldar. Actually, daughter of a great king among the elves, Elrond. As such, she had the capacity to live a very long life. Potentially forever, if not killed. The elves were portrayed as angelic, though flawed. They could alternate between being beautifully ethereal and at times, terrible to behold. By contrast, hobbits had a life expectancy somewhere around the life span of man before the flood. Bilbo and Frodo, for example, were in their third century of life when their adventures began – equivalent to our early thirties. Aragorn aka Strider represented man after the flood. He would age at what could be considered, for us, a normal pace. Which left Arwen with a dilemma. I’m sure you could imagine it. How could she and her love be expected to overcome their age difference? He would expire long before she would even think of dying. But because she loved him, she would not want to outlive him. So, she made a choice. He could not become Eldar. The only option was for her to give up her longevity and join him. Only great love could cause one to make such a sacrifice.
Essentially, this is what Jesus, the son of God did when he put aside his divinity to become one of us. Stepping out of eternity, he entered our time stream to become like his creation, to experience life as we do. Jesus hungered and was thirsty, he got tired and was sleepy; he dealt with the same limitations of a mortal body that we do. He knew what it was to love and be injured by love, to be betrayed and deserted by his friends. In short, he became one of us. He loved us enough to not leave us here by ourselves, choosing to die with us, for us, as one of us so that we could live forever with him. He chose a mortal life. Because of his sacrifice, we can now choose immortality. Yep. Just ours for the taking. Jesus gave it all up to give us this opportunity. In effect, He pressed the re-set button. How many of us have thought, if i were in the Garden of Eden, I would’ve done things differently? Or, if only they hadn’t partaken of the forbidden fruit? Well, we now have the same choice set before us as Adam and Eve. Life and death, immortality or mortality. Therefore, let us choose wisely so that on the day of His return, like Arwen, we may be reunited with our King.
“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.” Luke 8:5
It’s Fall. Multi-colored leaves lie on the ground in witness, rustling underfoot as I (and my new rottweiler puppy Rocco) walk by. Harvest time. Bringing to my remembrance years gone by, when I lived another life. I was married then, my children were small and I had a garden. It was my first garden ever and a wonderful accomplishment, full of tomatoes, peppers and squash. I planted string beans and cucumbers, and watched them climb up against my chain link fence as they grew. I even tried my hand at mustard and collard greens but that didn’t turn out so well, lol! I accidentally threw out the baby mustards and picked the collards too soon but on the whole, I thought my garden was a rousing success. Especially considering, I never had what you would call a “green thumb.”
Before my garden, I couldn’t get anything to grow. Not even a Chia herb garden. I killed every plant I owned. Me, the descendant of farmers, couldn’t get anything to grow. My mother and grandmother could coax life from a plant that was seemingly dead. I had no such luck. That skill set completely passed me by. Until one day, my sister-in-law gave me a plant that she was sure that I could not kill: a cactus. I was dubious, knowing my track record. Nurturing plant life just wasn’t my thing. Up until that time, I had never even mowed a lawn. I was given an exotic plant once before, a “shy plant,” by a family friend. It grew leaves that would open in the light of the sun and close at night. And although it provided some entertainment for my family and friends – the leaves would contract and fold at the slightest touch – it, too, died. I even managed to stunt the growth of those bamboo shoots that (usually) curve so beautifully. It may as well have been dead because it did not grow. So a cactus? Well, we would see.
As it turned out, the cactus was the perfect plant for me. It required very little water or attention. Every time I pulled my kitchen curtain aside to peer at it, normally after months of neglect, it was taller than I’d last seen. At last! A plant that I could not kill. From that, I was encouraged to try my hand at growing a few seedlings inside my home, just to see if I could. Wondrously, they began to grow! And I was completely satisfied with this, my meager progress, until I spoke with my late Uncle Pap, a retired farmer. He looked at my tray of seedlings and said something I’ve never forgotten: “If you put those in the ground, they’ll take off!” Huh? But they were already in the ground, so to speak. Well, they were resting in little peat pots of dirt. Plus, I’d consulted the seed packets; they had to be planted on a certain schedule, in a specific month. I was skeptical. “Isn’t it too late for that, Pap?” I asked of him, feeling sad then because I’d missed my opportunity. “It’s not too late,” he immediately replied and repeated what has become a stock phrase for me:Put it in the ground and it’ll take off.
His words came to mind recently, as I was contemplating the recent release of my book. For so long, I let fear of what could happen paralyze me to do nothing. Until one day, I looked up and time had passed. Time and opportunity that I, looking back, should have capitalized on. Pap’s words come back to me, resonating in my spirit –it’s not too late. In other words, take your dream out of the safety pot of your mind. Plant it so that it can grow for everyone to see. Give your book the chance to take off. And so I did. Now, I’m praying to the God of increase that this seed will yield a bountiful harvest, even one hundred fold.
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”
2 Corinthians 4:16
As my birthday loomed before me, a certain television show from my childhood repeatedly came to mind:James at 15. All I can truly recall of the show is its title. I even Googled it to make sure it wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. Sure enough, there it was. Three of the main characters (I’m assuming) came up in many pictures, including the obligatory token black character. But none of them rang a bell or stirred up any memories. Still, I couldn’t get that title out of my head. Why couldn’t I get it out of my mind? Then it occurred to me … James at fifteen … without the n. Fiftee … Loria at fiftee … no “n.”Wow.
In typical womanly fashion, I have remained at a playful “39 and holding” state for quite some time. Indeed, for some, my actual age may come as a surprise. But it’s the best surprise and has been the most fun to pull off – what woman wouldn’t want to pass for younger? So while I’ve enjoyed my time of shaving off a decade, I thought that now would be a good time to retire from the game. Besides, my main reason for not turning over – not having a big 40th celebration because I was in the throes of divorce – is no longer valid. My children, bless them, managed to make that dream a reality by arranging a beautiful, intimate dinner with close friends. Even still, I was not yet ready to make that leap, until I determined I would repackage the event to make the transition easier. I’ve decided to think of myself as being upgraded instead of getting older. A newer, better version of myself has been uploaded.Loria 5.0(five point oh)! I do like the sound of that!
And it’s true, for right now I am the very best version of myself. I’m pursuing my dreams in a way I never have before. I’m living a life, at last, which is true to my calling and gifts. My relationship with, and my dependence on God grows daily, as does my peace. And although, at times, my life seems like it is in a constant state of upheaval, it feels now like I’m settling into it. It’s resting easier on my shoulders. Like I’ve truly grown up after all this time. I feel matured and seasoned. Tried and tested. Built to handle more than the previous, flawed versions of myself. Past errors have been taken into account, creating a version that is stronger and more resilient. The resulting version is learning to love and accept herself; to be beautiful and accomplished in the skin that she is in and not wait for “one day” anymore. That day is now here. Finally.
“O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.” Psalm 71:17-18
