Who am I?

I know who I pretend to be,

the mask I present to the world.

But it isn’t me.

I know who I want to be.

Half buried dreams

Tantalising reminders of the way it might have been.

But that isn’t me either.

I know who I “should” be.

Perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect friend.

Whipping up a perfect meal whilst simultaneously solving the problems of the world.

But that definitely isn’t me.

I want to change the world, but sometimes changing the sheets is too much effort.

I know the lies that try to tell me who I am.

The whispers in the night that keep me awake.

Hiding under the covers and hoping that there’s still a light.

But I don’t think that’s me either.

So who am I?

I am loved.

With a fierce love.

An outrageous love.

A love that will not, cannot fail.

Not because of who I want to be.

Or who I think I should be.

But because He delights in who I am.





Barely trusting

Hating the dark but scared of the light.

His beauty shines in my brokenness.

In Him.








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