The more I come to understand human nature–its fickleness, its impatience, its greed and ungodly tendencies– the more I yearn to eagerly receive and actively live out the righteousness gifted me. The more God’s holiness is unveiled to me, the more I’m aware of my need of a holy and perfect God. For by lifting my eyes to behold Him, I cast a glance on this life of mine and see no true way to peace, humility, joy, hope, than through the One who perfectly embodies them all. He is, and so I am.

When it comes to gratitude, my words fall short all the time. It is a conscious state of mind, a consistent posture of the heart, a sharp remembrance that moves me to tears, shakes me at the core when I acknowledge all I’ve been given, the gifts that have been purposefully placed in my life, my very breath, the realization that my days are known, my life is held, my existence is a heavenly-woven miracle that will never be abandoned.

I am forever the girl at the edge of breaking who quickly rushes to hold it together, to keep the pieces intact. And I perform the happiness, drape it over me like a cloak, I do it so often, and for so long, that I can hardly tell the difference anymore. Thankful for friends who witness the shedding, who are unafraid to see and touch the bone of a truth that might scare them a little. But they stay and stay and stay, choosing me, when I can barely choose myself.

I’ve been thinking about ways to write this post without sounding like a girl on the internet whose heart’s a little shattered and has experienced an incredibly difficult month. Because while that is true, there are also other truths I’ll choose to dwell on instead.