All the Wrong Walls

That morning when you wake up to the unfortunate sound of your alarm chirping at o’ dark thirty after a week of school break. Then you swipe open your phone and touch Facebook (against your better judgment). And, lo and behold, your eyes fall upon a post that, while written in all good intentions, makes you feel, somehow, less than invisible.
 
Non-existent.
 
While uninvited irritation sets in, you still manage to wrestle two kids out of bed, into clothes and through the whole morning routine, and out to the bus stop just in time to give them kisses on the heads and send them off for eight hours.

Then you muster up every bit of will power you possess and start off on your morning run, hoping it might burn off more than just calories (i.e. that lingering irritation).

And it does… a little.

Until you return home and dare to step on that belittling tool, known as a scale, which reveals you’ve gained ten pounds since this time last year. Ten. Freakin’. Pounds.
 
Unattractive.
 
So you take a shower and wish that it would somehow wash your insecurities away with the morning’s sweat.

You emerge refreshed, but then open your closet, eyes falling on a worn and limited wardrobe, then attempt to piece together an outfit that will appear more put together than you actually feel.
 
Inadequate.
 
You race against the clock—and still-sleeping toddler—to apply makeup and straighten your hair into submission, but hear cranky cries before you can manage to finish. Times up. And yet another day of cleaning spills and changing diapers has begun.
 
Nobody sees anything I do.
 
These small shards irritate the wound of worthlessness you wear.
But you pick yourself back up. Because that’s what you do.
 
Until you visit a friend’s house whose stunning décor rivals that of Better Homes and Gardens. Where your toddler decides she’s tired of mommy talk time so she empties the contents of the diaper bag and strews diaper wipes all over the floor.

Your time culminates in said toddler throwing herself in a dramatic fit, then you decide it’s most definitely time to go.

Returning home, you put Toddler in her bed… more for your sanity than hers.
 
Selfish mom.
 
Then you have it out with God in the laundry room…
For once, God, just for once.

But, like with any other conversation with God, He so calmly and lovingly puts you in your place.
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And you have that moment of realization where you begin to see that you’ve had your Worth Ladder leaned up against all of the wrong walls, again.
 
Moving walls.
Fragile walls.
False walls.
 
And you remember the One Wall…
You remember that God sent Christ, Deity in the flesh, as a ransom payment for you. Imperfect, ungrateful you.
 
To give you incalculable value.
To give you unending love.
To give you limitless grace.
 
He is the One Wall.
The solid, unmoving wall where we find true significance.
 
The One Wall you don’t even have to try to climb, you just lean on.
When you’re feeling invisible, you lean.
When you’re feeling forgotten, you lean.
When you’re feeling set aside, you lean.
When you’re feeling tempted to prove yourself, you lean.
 
One Wall. Christ. The Rock.
 
Suddenly all of those other walls lose their sparkle. And so you pull your ladders down from the walls of Accomplishments, Appearance and Accolades and you lean in to Jesus and hear Him whisper…
 
You are my Daughter. You are loved, you are lovely, and you are worthy.
 

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God.Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:6-7