Scraps of Grace

Have you ever been told you’re “too sensitive?” I have heard that one my whole life. For my very first blog post, I feel like it’s important to go back to the start of my “scrapbook.”- the messy, complicated, but beautiful parts of my story. My childhood was full of moments that shaped me, not always in the easiest ways. I’ll start by saying my parents did everything they could to give me a great life (and they did) but life naturally comes with its own challenges, no matter what.

For as long as I can remember, I felt things deeply. I wasn’t the kind of kid who could just brush off mean words or being left out. I felt those feelings, and I felt them strongly. At a young age, I started to believe that the world was unkind, and there was nothing I could do about it. Like anyone else would, that made me feel small, helpless, and fragile.

I vividly remember the first time I felt inferior. I was 6 years old and in kindergarten. I am 22 now, and most people don’t remember things that far back, but I do. It might sound silly, but my classmates had already started an “earring club.” I didn’t have real earrings, only stickers. I was too scared to get my ears pierced anyway, but suddenly, not having something so small, made me feel like I wasn’t enough. At that time, a seed was planted in me, that fitting in mattered more than standing out.

Before that, I was the little girl who wanted to do everything right, who cared too much about following the rules. In fact, my mom had to pick me up from school if I got in trouble because I cried so hard. But by the time I was six, I learned something else. I learned that people will want you to do certain things- good or bad- just to be accepted. That week I begged for earrings. Not because I wanted them, but I didn’t want to be left out.

That pattern didn’t stop there, it only grew. From quitting horseback riding because no one else did, to playing sports I didn’t even like, to buying shoes I didn’t care about just because they were popular- it all became part of my story. The older I got, the bigger my compromises became. At some point, I even found myself doing plenty of things I knew a young girl shouldn’t, just because I wanted to fit in. These became pieces of my scrapbook that weren’t really meant for me, but pieces that I picked up to blend into the background.

Somewhere along the way, Emily forgot who Emily was. That’s why I’m writing here- because now is when I start piecing it back together. Even through those trying times, when other people had imaginary friends, I had Jesus. Even if I didn’t always follow or obey him, I just knew he never left me.

As soon as I decided it was time to start asking Him about my identity, He was right there to remind me- who I am does not come from what others think, my accomplishments, my mistakes, what I have, or anything else. It only comes from what He says about me. And he says that I am “chosen”, “forgiven”, “flawless”, “redeemed”, and “altogether beautiful.” One of the most wonderful parts I have found in being in a relationship with Christ, is that we don’t need to strive to be anything, we just need to know we are already loved and made in the image of God without trying to fit the mold the world has made for us.

If you’ve ever forgotten who you really are too, maybe you’ll find some of your pieces here alongside me, and become ready to paste your scraps into something whole again. Because as it turns out, our scraps aren’t wasted- they’re just proof that grace can make something beautiful out of every torn page.

Verse: Song of Solomon 4:7 ESV- “You are altogether beautiful, my darling, there is no flaw in you.”

Worship Song- Mirror- LO Worship