You don't have to try so hard.

I turned on my music to listen to, as I always do before bedtime. The second song that came on was "Try" by Colbie Caillat. The last stanza is my favorite:

Take your make-up off
Let your hair down
Take a breath
Look into the mirror, at yourself
Don't you like you?
'Cause I like you

And I just felt like God was talking to me, speaking to me. I've had a bit of a rough week, and I've had a kind of tough time with myself. I have a forehead that looks like the sky at night, and it's only a recent development, and I've been kind of...sensitive about it, I guess, even though no one has commented on it. And I guess...Yesterday my dad's work had a field day, and there was this really cute guy at the juggling booth, but he first thought that Porter was my son, so that was really embarrassing–I just felt kind of bad about myself. And I just am so glad that Heavenly Father is there for me. I am so glad that He loves me, and takes time to let me know that I'm perfect the way I am, and that there is no reason why I shouldn't like myself, because He loves me. I found this picture the other day, and I absolutely love it!!!

I just love this so much!! God worked so hard to make us the way that He wants us to be!! It makes Him sad when we don't love ourselves because He worked so hard and made us the way that He wants us to be. And He made us perfectly. We are perfect in His eyes, and we shouldn't ever try to change who we are because we are who we are because He made us that way. You don't have to try so hard, guys. We all make mistakes, and we are all imperfect people, but we are perfect to Him, and that's enough for me. 

God loves you. And He knows just how to talk to you.

I went babysitting yesterday for some of the sweetest girls. I put the younger girl down earlier than I did the older one, and when I was putting the oldest to bed, I read her some stories. She picked the first one, and it was a silly book about animal sounds and how pigs don't sing. Anyway, I picked the second book, and she had a copy of You Are Special by Max Lucado. I absolutely love his books, especially that one, and so I picked that one and read it to her. I had to whisper it because she kept saying, "Marlie's sleeping, Marlie's asleep," and she wouldn't let me talk in an above whisper. Anywho, as I kept reading the story, I smiled as I remembered reading it when I was little. But when I got to the part where Punchinello goes to see Eli, I started to tear up and cry because Eli represents our Heavenly Father, and we are the Wemmicks, and Eli was telling Punchinello that he is special, and loved, and the dots and star stickers (stereotypes--smart, dumb, chipped, etc.) only stuck if he let them. And I just couldn't stop crying because I felt like God was talking to me, telling me through this book that I could have not chosen (there were several others that I had read as a child and would've loved to read again) that I was special. That I was loved. That it doesn't matter what others think of me. All that matters is what God thinks of me. And He thinks I'm special just the way I am. And if you haven't read You Are Special or any of Max Lucado's books, you need to go find some copies and read them because I know that they will touch you. As a child, you don't really understand the meaning of stories—to you, they're literally just stories. But as you grow older, you come to realize that some stories have morals, themes, meanings, or symbolize other things, and you pick up on them. I know that God speaks to us in different ways—He speaks often through other people and what they do, and He also speaks through promptings He gives to you. I know that He loves you just the way you are. I know that He knows you and knows which ways you receive His words and love best. I know that I picked that book yesterday for a reason; I know I was prompted to pick it to help me. I'm grateful for God's love and I'm grateful that He cares enough to let me know through a children's book that I'm special and loved just the way I am, and the only opinion that matters is His.