There are more stories than I have time or permission to share, in which I’ve been stripped of a name, denied a title, mis-labeled, removed from the table, name called, and sometimes forgotten about all together. I have stood in places where certainty is anything but secure. I have had people question my every decision and tell me, kindly and not so, what I should and should not do. I’ve been Mom, but not Mom.
When I stand on the porch in the silence of trees, I fold my arms and stare back at the unseen wind, and I hear with my heart the voice of my God. Like a thread, I can see it, crimson and humming and constant. Stitching life and truth through each story.
You are my daughter. You are my beloved. You are named: mine.
When the masses have said we can’t, it has been God who has asked, who will you listen to? And now, He asks, who names you?
Oh how beautiful it is to know that when we are stripped of every thing, our making still remains unchanged. He knows who you are. And so do you.
Can you feel it, without title? Can you hold it, when nothing whispers to you except the wind?
How many times have you felt unseen? Lonely? Forgotten? Undervalued or unnamed? I believe the prompting on my heart to share this story is as a tangible reminder: there is only one who can tell you exactly who you are. I do not need to be called mom to be mom. I don’t need to be called anything to be love. This applies to so many things. Yet, we desire it, don’t we? To be told who we are and that we have value and worth.
In order to know who you are, you must grow familiar with the voice and heart of the one who formed you. This might mean quieting yourself to the naysayers, to the outside voices, or to even yourself. I know the ungentle things I tell myself often couldn’t be further from the truth.
If you have a moment, even right now, can you take a deep breath, close your eyes, and repeat for one minute or more – I am beloved. I am beloved. I am beloved. A minute of love can change everything. And you are deeply, completely, loved.
