Broken and Beautiful

I would run

But in all honesty, where would I go?

Anywhere I go, there I am.

I would hide

But in all seriousness, how would that solve anything?

Everywhere I go to shelter myself becomes exposed.

I would hurt that person

But in the end, would I feel as justified?

It might satisfy for a moment, and then I would have to deal with it afterwards.

I could take it all back

But logically that's impossible

I could try and try but it wouldn't change anything.

I'm running until it burns

and trying to breathe

I'm pounding until I bleed

and holding my hands afterwards

I'm attempting to mend the broken pieces of my life

Broken promises

Broken dreams

Broken life

until a pair of hands stops mine.

"Tabatha."

I continue to pound.

"Tabatha."

I begin to weep.

"Look at me," I whisper. "Will you look at me?"

"I never stopped," I hear Him say.

"Tabatha," He says again. "My precious Daughter."

I stop, looking at my bleeding hands and wrapping my arms around myself.

I feel a heat approaching me.

"God, no," I whisper. "There's no way."

"My Daughter," He says to me, in full confidence, "My precious Daughter. You are mine. I am calling you by name. Precious, Daughter, Child of Mine, honored, beloved, lovable, princess... I'm here."

There are no more words to be said. Tears flow like a river down my cheeks and surround me as He carefully picks me up and pulls me into His embrace.

He handles me like the most valuable, fragile human being in the entire world. He handles me like He doesn't want to break me. He handles me with care.

I cry and I weep. I struggle and I yell.

"Oh Father," I sob, and there are no other words that I am able to speak.

"I know," He whispers softly to me.

He knows me.

"I never stopped loving you, not once," He reassures me. "I am never afraid to tell you that."

The tears eventually fade and I sigh, exhausted.

I slowly close my eyes and enjoy His embrace. I snuggle onto His chest and breathe slowly.

"My promises are eternal, just like my love. I never stopped loving you, and I never will. You can believe me. I never left."

"Never?" I say into His chest.

"Never."

"Everyone leaves," I speak.

"Not me," He replies. "Never."

"But... look at me!" I exclaim. "I'm a mess! I'm everywhere! I'm ..."

He finishes my sentence for me.
"Beautiful. And Mine."

This is my Father. This is how He loves me, no matter what. I may not feel it, but my faith is bigger than feeling. I pray that I begin to see myself how God sees me.