Sunday, December 25, 2011


I was doing it again.  Wishing... Not that wishing is wrong.
I've built my dream houses, castles in the air, specialized rooms and varied landscapes. 
Wishing is like money, easily abused.
I was wishing I was a vintage mommy.  Wishing to be someone I'm not.  There is where the fault lies. 
This mommy is so much like me, and there is the difficulty.  She is creative and nostalgic.  Her beautiful home coming together on the bloggers page, faults hidden mostly from view. 
Why can I not love who I am, who I am supposed to be?  Why must my culture expect me to hate myself, or wish I was something God never intended?  I was the eye looking at the foot wishing itself into redundancy. 
Why do I give in so easily?
I'm not the foot.  I'm not sure what body part I am, but although I'm vintage, and a mommy it's time I saw myself as my creator sees me.  It's time I stopped wishing I was anywhere but here, anyone but me. 
Even if I'm the left eye and she the right, I must still be content to be the left eye. 
So, again, I will learn to hear my father's voice, "you are special because you are different.  You are who I made you and I love who you are."
oh, and you can't be me either...   

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