Uniquely Loved

Dear Heavenly Father,

I typed “Amen” on my last written prayer, and I looked out the window. The mist was so thick I couldn’t see past the edge of my yard. It lay in the valley, and covered the river, and hid the mountain peaks.

I’ve spent more time contemplating my dream. I’ve set out to find the group of women behind the mist and talk to them. I don’t know if they are women who have answers or who are looking for answers. Or if the dream means that all women were born with the answers, and finding them means searching our hearts and using our voices. I think all could be true.

Throughout the day, the mist cleared, and the next morning, I went outside to watch the sunrise. There were only a few brush strokes of clouds in the sky. Enough for the reflected sun to give an artful pink glow. I sat on a stone-cold bench wrapped in a down blanket to keep me warm, knowing I had already received an answer to my question, “Do you see me the way you see Her?” My mother in heaven, I meant.

Three times, I got a resounding, “Yes.” Once when I wrote the words, then again as I reflected on the words, and finally when I shared the words. Your Spirit of comfort filled my chest with a warm flow.

I’m not just seen as a child of God, but specifically as a daughter. The feminine in me is recognized. I am not just unique, I’m uniquely loved.

So, I was able to approach the sunrise without questions, expectations, wants, or needs. I could just be still. I closed my eyes and counted ten slow breaths. Then listened.

I listened to the noise of car engines, a sliding door opening and closing, a neighbor's dog barking, a nail gun being used at a construction site, a tractor hauling material. Finally, after noticing every distracting sound, I listened to my heart.

Father, it’s not easy to listen to my heart. I have to wade through the noise of doubts, distractions of insecurity, and layers of pain.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a few small birds hopping around on tree branches and chirping to each other. Their chirping seemed to represent the talking I was instructed to do. Then they flew off into the distance, free.

Tomorrow morning, I will hike to the top of the West Butte Trail, where I will have a bird's-eye view and offer this prayer unto you. That your daughters will be able to listen through the doubts, insecurities, and pain for the things of the heart. And that their voices will be set free.

I have stumbled, but am still sincerely,

Your Daughter,

Emily

Amen.