Did Anyone Else Forget?

A friend of mine recently made a comment. A comment that shocked me. Not that she said it, but at what it meant.

She simply said this: "Been taken for granted? Imagine how God feels..."

It stopped me.

I've been taken for granted. And I hated it. I did not handle it with grace or compassion. Oh, I did my best, but after the 12th phone call waking me up, or being chewed out for not wiping a counter when I was busy covering this persons responsibilities? Any grace that had been there had left. Sure, they may have been hurting, but I was sleeping! Didn't they know better? Or they were getting yelled at and were incapable of doing their job, but I was at least trying! Why couldn't they see how much I was putting into them without getting anything back?

Obviously, I am very far from even a decent comparison with God. But I want to point out that that is only my remembrance of how I felt after being taken for granted. This probably isn't even close to what I would have written at 3 am after the 4th phone call. And it certainly lacks the pain I had when I was chewed out for the most miniscule details, which were still my fault no matter what the circumstances, if I'm being completely honest. But when I went to imagine how God feels, well, it made me remember that God has feelings!

Am I the only one who kinda forgot that?

I know He's a God who is Love, who stands up for me, claimed me as His own, no matter what I do. But I often only see Him as just that. I've made God all about me, and while He is, He is also so much more!  I forget that He's a God that made us in His own image, that He gets jealous. I remember that He hurts for me when I'm hurt, like a parent hurts for their kid, but I somehow forget that He can be hurt. That He craves my attention and recognition more than I crave Mexican tacos. That He's done this amazing act, you know, SAVING US, and all of it was just so He could have more time with us. He's saying to us all the time, "What I wouldn't do for you! Look at what I've done for you! Love Me! Spend time with Me!"

I don't know about you, but I often tell Him to go and sit in the corner quietly while I finish what I'm doing. Or to come back later. Or that He just doesn't get the situation. I don't mean to do it on purpose, but I do it. And now all I can picture is Him, sitting in a corner, thinking, "Aren't I enough?" It's time to go and curl up on His lap, to spend time with Him, getting to know His true nature, His desires. Because I've finally remembered.

Thanks for reading! It seriously means a lot. Really. I am constantly shocked that you guys continue to read my ramblings. Thank you!

Oh, I just showered.

Ok. Honesty time.

Ready?

I think makeup makes me prettier. The confidence I have when I actually put the effort in, shower, do anything with my hair, apply the precise amount of color to make my eyes pop, and eliminate any imperfections I see is always more than what I have on the days I simply roll out of bed. On the days where my mornings begin before the sun is up, I have often described myself as looking "homeless." I joke that I get better tips on those days because people feel sorry for me. When people do compliment me, I often respond with a "Thanks! I showered!" in hopes that I don't ever come across as one of those people who puts that much time into their appearance, though on the inside there is a ton of high 5ing happening. I want to be one of those people who is confident enough to go out in public without anything on their face, a spring in their step, as confident as I was when I was younger.

And some days, I do have that confidence. Some days, I wake up, look in the mirror, and say, "Dang, chica! You are rocking that smile today! Let's reward you with 5 more minutes in bed." (Yes, I do consider sleeping a reward.) But then there are the days where I want to curl my hair, and remember that I chopped it off. And while it is the easiest thing ever to do, it is nearly impossible to change anything about it without major skill, which I do not poses. (Nor do I poses the patience to grow it out. Once it hits the almost a mullet stage, I freak out and chop. It's an ugly cycle.) Or I see some gorgeous photos of my friends, and I think, "Why can't I take a normal picture? Must my face always go crazy?!" And on those days, the makeup goes on extra thick.

Sidenote - I do not have anything against makeup. It is a wonderful thing for the days you need to feel extra girly, throw on some sparkle and color. It can be the funnest thing!

However, the problem arises when we use makeup to not enhance, but hide. Its a problem when we can't look at ourselves without it and find a single good thing to say. Its a problem when your close friends do not recognize you without it.

You are beautiful. No, you probably do not look like the girls in the movies or magazines, but that doesn't mean you are not beautiful. And not in a "She's got a beautiful personality!" No. No, no, no, no, no. I mean there was a plan that was made when it came to making you, and God Himself said you were good. Your smile/eyes/hair/lips/nose/ears/every other weird thing we think is wrong were put there on purpose. Your curls/pin straight hair that you hate are what another girl dreams of.

I so tired of seeing girls go out and not actually being able to see their real skin. I'm tired of seeing orange people. I am saddened when I hear one of my friends talking about a guy, and I hear her say, "Yeah, well, he'll never pick me anyway, so why bother?" I want to scream at you all, "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'RE FABULOUS?!" But then I realize I'm included in that group.

So girls, can we stop for a minute, wipe off that mask we painted on ourselves, and take an honest look in the mirror? And by honest, I don't mean critical. I mean appreciative. Find that thing that you poses that no one else does. The thing that when others compliment you on, you blush and say, "Oh, that? I just showered today." Because I'm telling you its there.

Thanks for reading! It means so stinkin' much!

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, I doubted. I doubted what I had been taught, what I had read, what I had had instilled in me since I was born.

Once upon a time, I feared. I feared that I was insignificant, that I was a hindrance, that I was incapable of accomplishing my dreams and goals.

Once upon a time, I hurt. I hurt from others opinions, for others own pains, and hurt others out of spite, because I could.

Once upon a time, I wanted more.

I had tried to accomplish my dreams and goals by myself, and failed. I felt empty, from the bitterness I had taken in and given out. I wanted to be a cornerstone for others, but found that doubt had shaken my foundation out from underneath me.

I had held onto my worries so tight that they had trapped me, in a prison that I was unaware I had put myself in. Once aware of my surroundings, I wanted to explain to others that this was not what I had wanted to choose, this was not my choice, but was unable to break off the bindings, the dirt, the weight I had put myself under to speak.

Looking at me, you may have had no idea I was dealing with anything. The air of confidence I had learned to exude was an easy disguise I could pull out for a moment of weakness. I was the picture of strength, capability, and confidence, when all I felt was weak, insignificant, and not deserving of anyone's attention.

I felt broken, but had no apparent reason to be so, when you're only looking at the obvious, the external. But if one had been capable of taking a microscope to my soul, my inner workings, they would have seen someone begging for attention, for friendship, for love. One who had shut themselves off to the world, believing that there was no one out there who could fulfill its deep need for connection. I cried out for more. There had to be more to this life. An then, I felt it.

I felt something that I had observed, but never participated in. Something I thought I had a grasp of, but soon realized I hadn't the foggiest idea what it truly meant. Oh, I had told others in the past that I knew of its wide expanses, its mystical healing powers, but that was, well, it was a man-made description of what I had heard and been taught, a description of something that can only be known by experience.

It was like being in a warm rainstorm. It started slowly, just splashes, slowly washing away my insecurities. Not abrasive, but gentle, reassuring.  And once I had become accustomed to it, accepted its help, it gained momentum, pushing me farther. And then, I was immersed.

In an instance, I was cleansed. The weight was gone. And I felt like I, even with all of the doubts, fears, hurts, was enough. He had seen through everything, and still He picked me. Amongst all the others, He chose me to work on, to work through.

I've clung to that. Do I struggle? Oh my goodness, yes! But I've learned, grown, and changed. I am no longer full of doubt, fear, or striking out to hurt. Because I was chosen. And sometimes, that's all it takes.

Thank you for reading! It means so much to me.