Congratulate.

Summoning the courage to speak to you has taken me a while. I, awkwardly, do not know how to start this thank-you note (or love letter) to you. I do not know how to appreciate you enough, how to adore you enough, or simply how to speak to you enough, yet on this occasion, permit my stumbling words; they are only learning how to walk in love with you. For we are on this journey together and considering those that will join us and leave us along the way (bar the One who created you), you will walk with me the longest.

You passed your exam. The man at the front desk held a smile and handed you a thumbs up with your results. You were shaking like you didn’t trust all those evenings you spent at a college desk with an over-spilling folder of notes, innocent purple smoothies and white, tangled headphones.

You are an OG. In the exam, there were all the flashbacks of the exams you failed. The rejection letters. The day-dream of you in a red-dress and black hair chasing after the woman you thought you should be, failingly, tiredly. I gave you the reasons to quit. To mourn for what you weren’t. I blamed you. Yet you continued. You continued to push. And then you passed.

You do so much on the average day for me, and you never complain.

Today, I want to thank you. Despite the day I wanted to throw you away, you stayed. Despite the day I sat in my room with nothing but a cold, petrifying silence to share with you, you stayed. You were a weightless hold. I did not see you, but you stopped me from wanting to quit.

You know, loving you feels like loving God. Hard. I can’t see you on most days. I rarely take enough time to smile at you in the mirror, or enough time to watch how your middle eyelashes climb over each other so easily. I acknowledge you, but don’t take effort to know you. I treat you like furniture sometimes, like you’re just there. I’m walking with God now – we’re walking with God now – and the warmth of His love as I’m drawing closer to His side is warming my love for you. Funnily enough, loving you feels like loving God. Easy, as times goes by.

I no longer will excuse my low self-esteem under wrongful definitions of meekness or humility. I no longer will withhold compliments from you. I will tell you that your spine upholds strength on the day you think you are too weak to go on. I will tell you that your dimples were poked into by grandparents who loved you for no other reason than your existence. I will tell you that you are beautifully and wonderfully made, always, always, always.

With love,

Mary Akin