The Woman I Aspire to Be

Somewhere, out there, I grasp at the strands of the woman I long to be. The grace-girl with tired feet, a free spirit, and a full heart. The one who sits in His presence so she can sit in the present. The one who doesn’t run from the hard broken of this beat up world. The one who stands beside the bleeding and bleeds too. The one who can stand to ask the hard questions because she knows in the end even the unanswered questions rest in the palms of a Good God. The woman who looks to the future and then runs, hard, in the lane in front of her. The woman who shakes off the fear and lives bravely knowing no fall or fail could take her outside the grasp of an infinite Savior.

This is the girl I dream of. There’s something wild about her, this girl. Her hair is streaming in the wind and her face is gleaming and she is alive. With the cultural to-do’s laid purposefully to the side, she can hear the quiet whisper of the eternal Father. The things He would like her to-do, and the reminder that if she doesn’t get to a single one of them, He will love her no less than if she accomplished it all. 

This girl knows grace. Knows the messy steps that are absolutely inevitable in retracing the trail of Christ. Knows the way the soul matters more than the product and the people matter more than anything besides God Himself.

There’s value in this girl. She knows the truth about her own two lungs and the one she has to thank for their continued breath. Knows the kind of Kingdom perspective that wracks a person new, breaks a person’s old and calls them to the best of everything.

Knows, too, that the best of everything will look different. The best of God’s Kingdom is reserved for those who choose to go low to servant-status and there is a kind of best that can’t be bought or achieved, only received. 

Oh this grace girl. She’s the woman I aspire to be.