The alarm sounds.

I’m buried under my covers.

I reach out to hit snooze on my cell phone. I don’t have to reach far; the phone is right next to me.

5 minutes later it rings again. I hit snooze again and continue to hit it every 5 minutes, for 30 minutes. 

Finally I drag myself out of bed, slowly walk down the hall and make my way to the bathroom. Once there, I lean on the sink, trying not to look in the mirror. Eventually I catch a glimpse of myself, and look straight into the mirror, shaking my head at my reflection, thinking . . .

You look like death ran you over, then looked back and decided to run over you one more time. You look drained, washed out. But that’s not the worst of it—you look just as horrible on the inside. You’re thoughtless, selfish and lazy, and can’t accomplish anything. Maybe you have some good intentions but you never see them through. You’re a loser, a failure, a complete mess. 

While I’m standing here berating myself, carefully slicing away any layers of confidence and dignity, I hear a still quiet voice in my heart saying, 

“You are a child of God.”

I continue the onslaught of criticism and verbal abuse.

The voice grows a little stronger but still ever so soft,  

“You are a child of God.  You are made in His image, you are loved.”

Why would I be loved? I’m such a mess. 

The whisper continues . . . “You are a Child of God.” 

The voice firmly tugs at my heart—asking me if, as a parent, I ever want my own children to feel this way about themselves.  

I quickly catch my breath, thinking, 

No, never. They are beautiful and amazing and it would crush me if they thought any other way about themselves. 

Then I have my “aha moment,” as I realize my heavenly Father feels the same way about me. He doesn’t want me to ever put myself down. It actually hurts Him when I feel this way . . . when I say degrading words about myself. His heart aches when I do this, because He loves me. (I honestly don’t know how or why, but He does!) He sees me as new and complete, wonderfully and beautifully made. 

I pick my head up, cling to my Father, and remind myself,

I am a child of God!

I’m also a work in progress—that’s for sure. But it occurs to me that the key words here are “in progress.” I’m not a work nowhere-near-finished, not a work struggling and failing. 

No, I’m a work in progress. 

According to Merriam-Webster’s dictionary the definition of progress is “a royal journey marked by pomp and pageant, a forward or onward movement, gradual betterment, and to develop to a higher, better, or more advanced stage.” Oh the enemy doesn’t want us to think that, tries to stop us from being all God wants us to be, to stop us from reaching out to others, from being that light someone just might need. 

But we are the Children of God. 

We are unique, special, loved.

I’d like to say when I looked back in the mirror I immediately saw a Child of God, but I didn’t at first. At times I still don’t. But what I do see is a work in progress. 

And I’m okay with that. Because I know God will finish what He started.

Psalm 139:14-16 (New Living Translation)

Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
    Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
    as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.

You saw me before I was born.
    Every day of my life was recorded in your book.

Every moment was laid out
    before a single day had passed. 

Isaiah 84:8 (New Living Translation)

And yet, O Lord, you are our Father.
We are the clay, and you are the potter.
We all are formed by your hand.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joanne Mellace is a born-and-raised South Philadelphian. She loves walking around the city, enjoying the sights and sounds, and eating out—there are so many restaurants! She also loves spending time with family and friends and relaxing at home with her cats, Houdini and Alley, who she refers to as her “furry family.”