There are those who say they welcome you to the table; yet, it still feels like you are a dog at the master’s feet willing to even take the scraps. But, daughter, let you be enough.
There are those words running thick in your veins, clanging the never ceasing migraine roller coaster. Those ones where the skin of your flesh, the soprano in your voice, the meekness of your smile say it isn’t enough. But, auntie, let you be enough.
Even the appearance of strength, those who walk with swagger in their step, hips rejoicing in the womanness of it all. And still, there is a voice gnawing that whispers ever so faintly, “You are not enough.” Read the rest at Grace Table