I want people to love me for the real me. Not the image they have in their minds of me. Not what they have mistaken me for. I don’t want someone to take parts of me, the pretty parts, and only see me according to those. I want someone to know me as the TRUE ME. The girl who stays up till 2am baking & dancing in the kitchen. The girl who starts books & can hardly put them down. The girl who runs barefoot in an open field just to imagine myself as an Indian girl long ago. I want someone to love me for my failures. Mistakes. Scars. Broken dreams. Heartbreaks. & everything in between. & someone does. Someone reaches down to me in the middle of my brokenness & calls me beautiful like it’s my name. He sees me, not by the beautiful parts, but through the battle scars. He sees me when I’m in my bedroom crying to God for forgiveness or hope or strength to get through the next day. & he LOVES me. He died for my broken, imperfect, & messy self. He died knowing all the times I would fail him & he still died. For me. He loves my perfectly imperfect self & tells me I’m worth saving & I’m worth dying for.
Thank you Jesus for picking me up in my brokenness & loving me. For giving me grace & love. For dying for me & all my sins. Thank you for your comfort in the hard times & your peace in the bad times. Without you, I am NOTHING.
love, a perfectly imperfect girl
“He loved us not because we were lovable, but because He is love.”