Whether I’m hiding behind my kids or not. Whether I’m tired, wraggedy, or manic.

He sees me.

Not my undone laundry or my messy house. Not my mismatched curtains or my futon with the chocolate milk stains.

He sees me.

Beyond the color of my hair or the size of my waist. Over the grocery lists of immediate needs I  rattle off to Him every morning. Behind the worry.

He sees me.

Inside my inside dreams, my secret hopes; at the crux of where mommy meets wife and woman.

He sees me.

Unbelievable how hard it was to find a photograph with me actually in it for this post. 99 out of 100 times they are of the kids only. But beyond my lens, beyond my point and shoot camera, beyond my life of diapers, commuting and writing. Beyond my homesickness and current dearth of frequent flier miles. Beyond my accent, my zip code and my passport.

He, and He alone, truly sees me.

And it makes me feel like this.

I hope you know He sees You too.

***************************************************************

This post is linked to Chatting at the Sky for Tuesday’s Unwrapped. It is also one of the most important things I learned this week.

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •