I Am His…

He says, I am His…
Growing and learning to be His daughter is hard sometimes when the world is whispering, “women who aren’t good enough, should be seen and not heard.”

I feel tugged, stretched, like a fragile and priceless strand of pearls when pulled too hard they snap, and the clatter of those pearls echoes across a hardwood floor. I stand there, then bend down to pick them up and the tears come, they fall like rain as I gather the purest white remains of what could have been in my hand and I weep because it’s broken, I weep because I am broken and I feel so small and so fragile as a finely fired thin glass.

I hold up my shaking hands to the One who saw me before the beginning of the world. The Maker of All, the Mighty Elohim, who reaches down and takes my bits of nothing and holds them in His nail-pierced body.

He speaks and says to me:
Be broken so I can Renew you.
Be desolate but allow me to Restore you.

You are not forgotten because I have held you all along.
You were dirty but now you have been washed in My blood.
Someone has forsaken you but it was not Me.
You are not abandoned any longer.
You are not ugly.
You are not worthless; I didn’t create worthless people.

Word upon word, reminder upon reminder, from this god who sees girlhood plastic pearls turn to rubies, as He whispers a new life into me. He places the strand around my neck, mended and true and glorious…and that bleeding, broken hand of Glory lifts my chin to meet His gaze.

My Dear Daughter, I knew you would not be long in coming to Me, My Joy shall be yours.

I gaze in the mirror and for the first time I see His Glory, His Joy, glowing from within me.

I AM His Daughter…and He is My Salvation.

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