Love, God

My darling, my daughter. Do you think that I don't see you? In the back of that cafe, where you said we would have coffee together and chat, but our date slipped your mind. I am there, as I have always been, a loving hand on your shoulder, smiles from strangers, and a good hug on a hard day. That was me. I see you and I know the very crevices and shadows of your heart, of the darkest dustiest hidden parts of you, and I love you anyways. I sent my perfect son to die for you, to redeem you, to give you hope and a reason to live because I couldn't stand the thought of you without me. I see your brokenness, when you look in the mirror and you aren't satisfied with what you see. I painted you that way, molded you exactly so, down to every fingernail and every eyelash. I watch as you splash creams and inks onto your skin, browns and pinks and reds, never satisfied. The way your eyelids fall when you blink, and the way your lips part just right when you smile, the pigment in your hair color, it is mine. I made you. I watch as you push away another plate of food, as you resist the spices, fruits, and meats that I've made for you, to nourish you, to enjoy. You compare yourself to other people, and you don't see the beauty that I see in you. I see beauty in you, the way that I handcrafted you. I see beauty in your modesty, and in your gentle and kind spirit. Please try and see yourself through the eyes of your creator. You mean more to me than the sparrows and the flowers of the field. You were made with tenderness and there is not a single part of you, of your very being, that I do not call mine. You are mine, my darling, my daughter, and if you want me, I can be always with you. You are my bridegroom, my betrothed, and I will be here until the very end of time. Come here beloved, and watch what I will do.
Love, God.