I’m by no means a brunette,
Nor born a blonde. “And?” And…
I’m by no means the thinnest gal
Yet I’m grateful my hips bounce.
Maybe it’s my hair, my size, or skin;
Perhaps my features aren’t the finest—
I never said I was gorgeous. But
Are these the reasons I’m alone?
My features aren’t the finest
They say my personality is cynical…
Why do you think
We often feel alone? It’s not merely
About flaunting the finest features…
I never said I was gorgeous, true.
But why do I feel alone?
I’m by no means a blonde
(Eponine: it’s not just brunettes.)
Nor the thinnest or brightest;
But I rock bouncy curves. One day
Perhaps I’ll meet a guy who agrees.
I know my features aren’t the finest;
But I’m thankful I claim the greatest
Feature of all: an identity in Christ.
Why do we feel so alone? Despite
Crowds drowning our sounds,
Schedules demanding our attention,
Social applause from lifeless files,
And endless distractions?
We’re more than our voices,
Features, failures, and successes, for
Our identities demand security.
I know my features aren’t the finest
But I can claim security in my identity:
A beloved child and pardoned soul,
My future is secured and bound
Within the love of a Heavenly,
Ever faithful Father. Come highs and
All the lows: I’ll sometimes feel alone.
But feelings aren’t always our reality.
I never said I was gorgeous…yet
These feelings won’t define me.
“And?” And…come all the highs,
The lows, and the joys: I am
Certain my feelings don’t define me.
Feelings aren’t always my reality. “And?”
My identity is securely bound within
The love of my True Love: Abba.
Reality is more than feeling; identity is more than appearing. Brutal honesty: sometimes I don’t feel pretty, smart, or talented. Sometimes I feel alone, even when I’m surrounded by familiar faces in a room. It’s a feeling—not always a tangible reality.
In those moments, I remind myself of the facts: that I am fearfully and wonderfully made by God. That I have a purpose. That God has promised to never leave me or forsake me. That others have felt this way before me. That this feeling does fade away. That others probably need a reminder that they are also loved, important, and uniquely made.
Dear Reader: we’re not perfect. But there’s only one you. And if you’re reading this, you have a specific purpose. Live it—only you can!