Paramount Meekness

Small little girl, there was insignificant little Caroline.  It was before the foundation of the earth.  Upon my knees, I bowed.  No life in my body, staring into the abyss, gazing into the world that was not yet created.

Your hands reached down.  Large and strong.  Your meek hands compassed my face, circling and examining.

Rightful power to crush me, before my life begins.  Judgement and execution can not be denied you.

Hands within an inch of my face, covered every inch.  Your left hand paused.  Your right hand turned.  My cheek is exposed to the back of your right hand.  Slap?  Eliminate?  Start over with your creation?

Your eyes looked at me.  They pierced through my chest and into my not yet beating heart.  You saw my future, my life, my burdens, and my struggles.  You could make me never be.

Your right hand, turned to my cheek.  Will it begin to erase?  It moved.  Gently, softly, it rubbed down my face.  You move forward.  With your whole body, none of me is left exposed.  The God of the Universe hugged me.

Slowly, you backed.  A deep breath and a thought gives me life.  You smiled.  My cries were heard on earth.  A new baby was born.

This life, you gave me.  You made me and you approved.

When I am scared, when I fail, when I look and compare and say, “I am not enough,” when I cry, when I despair, I close my eyes.  As still as I can be.  As absent from this world as possible.  All I do is feel.  And you are there.  Your arms surround me.  None of me is exposed.  You whisper like you do, “Baby girl, I made you.  You are mine.  I approve.”  The God of the Universe is hugging me.

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