I sit here with you on the dark, leather couch as the red lampshade gives off its soothing hue.  The dusk swirls through the backdoor windows intent on darkness.  And I hear your inadequacies as they slip through truthful lips into the quiet sanctuary of us. Your veil comes off and vulnerability swells in a crescendo of fears.  

I hear the lies you tell yourself.  All the “I can’t do it” and “failures.”  I see you running away from yourself, scared of your shadow.  Life is hard.  There are always curveballs and giant hills we never thought we’d have to climb.  And as you trudge up this mountain you feel weaker and more broken.  I see you falling on your hands and knees and continuing onward even though you want to give up.  I hear the meaninglessness enter your voice as you question your ability to continue.  I feel your pain as you glimpse behind you and know that you can’t go back.  You must trudge forward.  

This is the glimpse of you that you’ve allowed me to see.  All the shortcomings of you that hide like dustballs beneath your bed. 

My burdened thoughts absorb your open truthfulness until it transforms into the lies you’ve adopted from your battles.  It’s obvious all the “I’m not worth it,” or “I don’t deserve it” untruths scream at you with ridiculous fury.  Until, you believed the lie.  It’s so hard to see God’s tender caring hand that’s molding you. 

The forming is steady yet gentle; Painful yet refining. I see your strength as you push past your sleep limits to be there for those you love. I hear your kindness to strangers even when you have nothing left to give. I know you believe in the good even when there is no hope for change. I see you tirelessly give more of yourself then most others would offer. I hear your hope for the future amid the trials of today.  I know you remain awake long after the sun has set with prayer and concern. I see your trust in God though circumstances are bleak. I hear the purity of your desires in this wayward world. I know you continue uncomplaining even when you body aches with fatigue.

Most of all I know that God has formed you into the perfect “you”.  As you trudge and limp up the mountain, God is molding you to be more like him.  He is writing you uniquely into his “image” story.  You are beautiful.  For each battle wound tells your story, and each scar is an integral part of you.  You are amazing.  You rock this world with your ready smile intent on quieting the pain in other souls.  You make symphonies with your kindness.  Your faith stands strong in the wind despite the storm. You are perfectly who God is making you. 

The mountains and the climb remain as you trudge forward.  You are the clay.  You are a precious vessel!  You are enough. 

“But now, Oh Lord, You are our Father; we are the clay.  You are the Potter. We are all the work your hands” Isaiah 64:8