You're perfect. And I'm sorry.

I was trying on some jeans at the store today and looked into the mirror. I didn't recognize myself. Like everything in my life since losing my daughter, my body has changed. I gained some weight. We're doing our best, but we've eaten out a lot more than normal. I suddenly went from chasing a toddler around constantly to trying my hardest to just get out of bed in the morning. Beyond that, I can see and feel the grief held in my body. Everything is a bit swollen, inflamed, and disheveled.

Mike told me the other day that when he looks at Julia's photos he finds himself telling her two things. He says, "you're perfect." And then he says, out of his deeply empathetic and gentle heart, "I'm so sorry you died."

I looked more intently into the mirror in the store today and remembered Mike's words. I tried letting go of my criticism and instead tried to express some empathy: "You're perfect. And I'm so sorry this has happened to you." Something shifted in my spirit. A confidence came over me. I will never have the same body I had before Julia. I will never "bounce back." But I see all that my body has carried me through and I am proud of it, right now, as it is.

Of course, we are imperfect people, being made into perfection only through the grace of Jesus. But God has the same heart for us that Mike has for Julia. So proud. So compassionate. And if we are seeking to be more like him, we ought to start seeing ourselves the way he sees us.

"God saw all that he had made, and it was very good."
- Genesis 1:31