Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Or...

When I hit 35 weeks pregnant with J, I found two tiny stretch marks. And I cried. I cried because I knew there was more to come and I was struggling with the loss of "perfection." I was not excited about "failing."

So,
yes,
the stretch marks grew.
I got more.
And of course, I've added a small thin scar, low lying on my abdomen.

I'm not perfect.

I've been marred.

But you wouldn't know that some days, when I act like I can still do this or that perfectly, in my own strength, by my own will.

Yesterday I was praying about my fears of gaining too much weight with this pregnancy. I worked really, really hard to lose 15 lbs more than I gained in my last pregnancy -- because I so desperately want to go at this second pregnancy from a place of health. But after working so hard to lose it, its not as easy as I thought it would be to regain it.

And as I was praying, this is what I felt God saying:



You need to close your eyes.

Envision my hands.

They are scarred,

like you.

Are they unlovely?
Or are then enrapturing?

Do you want to let go of them? 
Or hold them forever, feeling the wounds  
And all that they mean?

When I hold your hands in return,
Do you think of the deformation?
Or do you feel 
Love
And forget?

If I put my hands on your cheek,
Do you recoil,
Or lean in?

If I show you my large-scarred side,
Are you more or less in love with me?

And when you look in my eyes,
Does anything matter?
Or do you lose all thought
And become whole?

You never have to look away, you know. You never have to seek out a mirror. You can hold my gaze forever. The rest all fades away.
But my eyes are yours forever, love. My eyes are here to stay.

Your weight will go up. It will go back down. I created you for this. But if you look in the mirror,
oh you will miss
all the glory
in this ---
MY LOVE.
Its yours to have.
You never have to look away.




1 comment:

  1. Beautiful and my eyes welled up with tears. Thank you friend! My heart knows the battle and I needed to hear this.

    ReplyDelete