I beg him for specific feedback. "Do you like my hair this way?" "Is this a good color on me?" "I actually spent time trying to look nice today...did you notice?" I'm his wife, his beauty, his companion, his best friend.
My heart beats a little faster when he tells me, with great fervor, "you're the BEST mommy ever!" I'm his parent, his guidance, his role model, his cheerleader. To others I am daughter, teacher, friend, listening ear.
But when I try to imagine who I am to God? I pause, speechless. My first thoughts land on words like unworthy, disappointing, insignificant. To God? Me? I'm one in a billion other messed up human beings on a planet headed for ruin. I can't bring myself to imagine any role where I would be special to God. In which He would notice me. [...]
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