Before he’d be going one way for the evening, I was preparing to go the other.

Walking the puppy, I noticed a feather.

We had a slight disagreement, nothing major. I reversed my car, felt the thump thump of something under.

I looked over and saw him, the look on his face saying, I’ll never fully understand her.

I had run over the garden hose.

He turned and I took off writing stories in my mind over the way God made me, makes us all.

“For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body.”

‭‭James‬ ‭3:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I found myself teetering on the edge of despair, emotional discontentment.

He listened and tried to understand, to an extent he did; but, when he came to my defense it only added to my frustration.

Only God knows me fully.

The soul he created, His beautiful anticipation of me.

“Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.

You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:14-16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’ve barely and inconsistently scratched the surface that might give a glimpse of the me that God sees and knows.

I find it hard to believe.

I practice intention and notice, otherwise I get sullen over the lack of notice by all the others.

I’m digging deeper, understanding a child that’s not validated will strive the rest of their days for someone to tell them they matter.

It helps to know the reason.

I found a feather, pristine and soft. I left it beside his phone before leaving. The music serenaded my husband as he watered the lawn. Like a peace offering for what I’d done he saw as wrong.

I envisioned him finding it, knowing it was an unspoken apology.

I walked alone later, the cool air sending leaves a flutter. It was good, good to walk alone.

A tiny feather I found for me, white and edged with brown, I slipped it in my pocket.

I’d been researching angels, read that finding a white feather, some believe is the presence of an angel near.

I couldn’t help but think of my mama and her love of Willie Nelson.

The line from a song about a sad soul, too far from heaven, about to lose her way or not belonging in the place she’d landed.

Too far from heaven, too close to the dirty earth and ground, the feather I found.

Angel flying too close to the ground…Willie Nelson

Back home, I saw my husband had left on the counter, a pear or an apple?

I couldn’t be sure.

I washed the tiny feather, laid it on top of the brown fruit to dry.

I can’t be certain if it’s an apple or a pear, I’ll just wonder.

Not slice it.

The beauty of it on my kitchen counter is enough.

The message of simple things, forgiveness, offerings of peace, images and objects that cause for me, remembrance of God.

Remembering with wonder.

Full of wonder over all I don’t yet see.

I am made for so much more than what I present on the outside.

I’m more significant in the eyes of God because of the me only He sees.

When God made me.

He decided my significance.

Enough.

Validated me in a way no words, acceptance, praise or accomplishment can get close to in measure.

The measure of my worth?

That God made me.

There’s a million reasons to trust Him. He knows me fully and yet, loves me still.

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭91:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

May my soul find your nearness and stay near, God. May I be ever aware of what’s unseen, the spirit of you, nearer, nearer in my natural realm.

Too wonderful to know, too wonderful not to believe in the possibility of.

Believe.

Continue and believe.