I've heard it said that every woman has a lie that they believe. A lie specially crafted by the Devil to stop them from doing God Works.
I guess this one's mine.
A face in a crowd... if that... inconsequential, worthless.
If you walked past me on the street. You wouldn't look twice. Heck, you probably wouldn't even look once.
I'm the one who at 12 was asked what I was studying at university and at 16 was assured I had the maturity of a 39 year old.
I'm the one that friends stop inviting over and don't bother talking to, then don't even care enough to ask me why I don't sit with them any more.
I'm the one that people get excited over seeing again... only to be left sitting alone while they go off and chat for hours on end with another friend.
I'm the one who repeatedly gets forgotten while the rest of the family is known.
I'm the one people run to when they have problems and run from when everything is fine.
I'm just a face in the crowd... sometimes I wonder if I'm anything more than the wall paper.
And it struck me, as I was typing those words, how close the way I often feel is to the way I treat God.
I run to Him with my problems... and slip away when things are good.
I stop inviting Him into my life, or talking to Him... and then forget to wonder He seems so distant.
I get excited over talking to Him... and then get distracted talking to others or thinking of other things.
And, you know what, He incredibly still loves me. He's still willing to pick the pieces up after I ruin everything. He's still willing to hold me and show me He loves me.
And because of that, I'm happy with being a face in the crowd. I'm happy to simply Be and Live and Love. Because He Is. I'm happy to serve without being known.
For the most part...
because sometimes... sometimes... I would really like to be the Belle of the Ball instead...
And when I wish that... when I believe I'm just another face... that's when the Devil begins to win...
because I am the Belle of Someone's Ball... I'm the Belle of His Ball... and that's the highest honour a girl could ever hope for.
To be the Cinderella in the Court of His Majesty... Creator of All Things Seen and Unseen...
But it's hard to truly believe I'm not Cinderella in her rags. It's hard to see that I am clothed in the Robes of Heaven, simply because He chose me.
Even those last few words have been more to reassure myself... because honestly... I can't see much more than another face in the crowd... how can this... that is to say me... be the Belle of anyone's Ball, let alone His?
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