Bare trees, bare souls and the love that made them both

I like January. I like how stripped down it is. Plants, schedules, closets (thanks Marie Kondo) even the sky seem to have settled into a simple beauty. The base layer of life. Some people might think it's bleak, but I am sort of reveling in the simplicity.

In my spirit, there's a similar paring down going on. A simple revelation. A base layer of faith that I've been getting in touch with. 

I walked from room to room this morning, opening blinds (I'm trying to learn something from the natural rhythms of the Earth these days. Light and dark. Rest and wake. Sow and reap.) I looked at the lovely pink tone of the January morning sky. And simple truth lit across my heart. 

I did not come into the world innately good. I came into the world innately loved. 

There's a lot of good that I've tried to cover myself up with. For fear that I would not be accepted. I wanted to prove that I should be accepted. Wanted to do something worthy. Be someone worthy. Sometimes it seems like each and every day is just a trial waiting to be stepped into. Who will see me? Judge me? Like me? Reject me? Certainly I need something to arm myself against this. A career or my children, a higher degree or a cute outfit. A glass of wine or a cup of coffee or my iPhone. My dad is a lawyer, maybe it's in my nature to come up with a defense. 

But something about January and pink skies and bare trees has me breathing deeply, bravely. My defenses are tired. Or maybe that's just me that's tired. Too tired to pick them up. It's a good tired. Bare trees can be really beautiful when you take a moment to look at them. Bare souls can be, as well. 

Maybe all I need is this love? This love that brought me into existence and will see me through every day. This love that will never demand that I prove myself worthy. Only asks that I would love back. 

We love Him because He first loved us. 1 John 4: 19