I’m writing for a new blog that deals with pursuing healthy identity. I don’t know anyone that hasn’t struggled with that topic in one form or another.
My first post: Michelle’s Story.
I love to be outside in the dirt. Barefooted, usually. I love digging, planting, watching things grow. I’m not afraid to sweat or get dirty. I have callouses on my hands and feet. They build over time, protecting tender skin from the abuse of the elements and the tools I use.
The calloused heart I possessed was also built over time, protecting me from physical, emotional, and spiritual abuse I endured by the people who were supposed to ‘love’ me. The tender heart spoken of by Jesus, the soft, fertile ground of the heart that accepts the seeds He throws out and thrives–this was not my heart. Mine was the rocky one. The one the seeds hit and bounced off of, washed away by the rain.