“Can we just talk for a minute about how messy I actually am?”

I scribbled across the lined pages, waiting for the wrath of God to pour down on me and to hear the words, “Yep, you’re right. You are a mess and you’re not enough but you’re too much.”

They never came, the hateful words. Instead, I felt an odd release about the honesty of my question, as if God did want to just talk for a minute–not about my embarrassing mess, but about anything and everything. Because he just wanted to talk.

A few months ago…

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