I am thankful and overwhelmed with the faithfulness of my
Savior.
I awoke with tears in my eyes that overflowed from my heart,
uncontrollable. Good tears, light and bubbly and flecked with the sunrise
colors of joy that left me floating. Such a change from the sticky tar tears of
self pity or the acidic bolts of anxiety that I’m so used to.
I feel a change coming, rolling toward me like the tide, not
so different from the one that rolls inside of me. I feel like I’ve been in a
constant state of change since I moved from Texas to North Carolina in high
school. Not a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s been hard to get my bearings
with a ground that is slippery like ice and just as unpredictable.
Not that God calls us to be safe.
I’m learning that. I’m learning what it looks like to live
in constant surrender to Him, trusting all the way. I’m learning my calling,
learning not to be ashamed of my shortcomings, not to apologize for my passion.
I’ve come so full circle in the last four years. I’ve seen
myself change from the scared little girl I was – the child who liked art but
doubted her hands and mind and ability to create, the girl who doubted that her
Savior had plans for her. The girl who created in quiet, who hated the things
her hands made, who neatly cleaned up the evidence and hid her creations in the
dark.
I’ve seen myself change as I’ve found a niche, as a young girl
finds something she can do well, at last, a slice of the universe just her size.
She threw herself into design and into the computer, pursing excellence in
hopes of finally proving myself, but instead losing identity and hours and
sleep over color palettes and the pursuit of perfection in Bezier curves.
I’ve seen myself fall over from exhaustion, on my knees,
feeling both ancient and like an infant, stomach twisted. Empty, because I’ve
given all I have in pursuit of craft, emptied out like an addict’s cup. My will
and purpose melted, my corner of the universe suddenly too tight and
suffocating, because I wasn’t sure who I am anymore.
And now… I’m clean, white, a blank page. And as I sit here
to write a poem to my Papa, He reveals Himself. He turns the white to patterns
and words and pictures and stories, each one deeper and richer than the last.
He turns dark tears to light, fills my soul with the gold dust of hope and
deepens the roots of my faith. The layers of my heart, slowing peeling off with
perfect timing to reveal a new creation each time.
He is showing me so much, exactly what I can handle. I am
the least qualified and the most broken, but that is what He does: He restores.
He creates and redeems and gives, because He loves us. I can never repay the
debt or understand the depth of His love, but I’m going to spend my whole life
trying, hands open, handing it all back to Him.
And I don’t just mean my life on this earth, I mean eternity
– I mean that even when I die here, I will be even closer to Him, praising and
creating with Him forever. I cannot wait.
And for now, I will stop apologizing so much. I will stop
hiding, I will stop apologizing for my existence, stop apologizing that my art
looks different or because someone doesn’t understand. I will stop apologizing
for my heart, for my looks, for my words, because He has made me and I am
beautiful. And it’s good to believe that, because I have been made whole.
My favorite part? He has a plan for everyone. Everyone He
has made has a purpose and is beautiful and is so unique and needed. We often
don’t believe that we have worth. I like to think about this: if there was only
one person in all creation, He would have still died for you. He loves you that
much.
This verse has been in my heart for a few months now, a
daily reminder:
"Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the
LORD's purpose that prevails."
Proverbs 19:21
He is sovereign, and He has a plan. He will challenge and
speak more clearly at some times over others, but He is always there. So much
comfort in that, because He is all powerful and holds all of creation in His
perfect, skilled, hands. Rest in His arms today.
