Portrait of Love
I am humbled.
To believe that the creator of the universe, the most intelligent presence in our lives, considered me.
From nothing, I became an idea, a new life, an inspiration worth drawing into existence.
Unique, uncopiable me.
It is immeasurably more comprehensive to accept the fact that I wasn't just scribbled together.
I am not a post-it note "to do" task or some simplistic thought jotted down on a coffee-stained napkin.
I was delicately painted with beauty, grace and loving kindness. I was designed out of love but not left as "for display only."
I was etched on God's heart, the art of His soul, meant to be loved and going where He goes.
Be still my beating heart.
I am unfinished art; a multitude of watercolors streaming across an endless horizon.
My landscape exists inside the framework of true love.
I am drawn to the artist who drew me into existence, into His arms, into His unfailing love.
I am not a figment of His imagination, but a living, breathing, intricately woven creation.
Not just another body, face, or girl, but the treasured one He rises for.
The art that is me is no accident; I was well planned and deliberately formed.
A canvas of thoughts, feelings, fears and goals. I'm expressive and reserved, bold but cautious.
The best part of me is a reflection of the One who pours His love out and paints souls.
You and me and everything in between.
We are fashioned.
We are drawn.
We are placed in the corridor of God's heart, portraits of lives He is eager to love.
Over and over again.
Minute by minute.
Hour by hour.
Day by day.
Year by year. For the rest of our lives.
My chest cannot hide the rapid succession within, the heart that barely withstands bursting, attempting to contain the knowledge of such love.
If I am a reflection of the image of His heart, I can only imagine the real thing.
It blows my mind.
Created about 1 year ago
