Show me who I am, Lord, I prayed. Show me how You see me. Though I knew the truth, my mind was riddled with lies. And I just needed to hear Him say it. I needed my God to confirm what I knew in my head but doubted in my heart––that I am righteous and good and pure and beautiful in His sight, that I am accepted despite my many shortcomings, and that He is pleased with me regardless of my performance. “You a child of God, Momma,” my two-year-old would not-so-randomly say to me at the time as the lyrics “I am who you say I am” continually played in my mind (Hillsong Worship). Whispers of grace. I am who you say I am, I’d echo in thanksgiving. It was a time of remembering. A time of speaking truth over myself. A time of coming back to where I…
