Letters and Numbers

No matter how young or old we are, letters and numbers make up an importance in our life. When we’re young, these numbers we count upon fingers share as a reminder of how quick time is moving. When we learn our letters, they give way to a independence allowing us the freedom to read on our own, to now formulate sentences, to carry on our own conversations. When we’re old, those numbers serve as a representation of the bountiful life that we’ve been blessed with. Those letters are put together in the crossword puzzles from the Sunday newspaper, or go missing from the communication with our loved ones. But somewhere between youth and old age, these letters and numbers take on a new identity, one that seems to plague those middle years.

You see, these common letters and numbers soon become letters and numbers we wear on our clothing or see on a scale. They soon take on a new level of our identity, being a marking system in society. Clothing companies limit their market to certain letters and numbers because how dare someone larger than the ideal model size desire to fit into their brand. No, you don’t belong there. So girls and guys of walks of life give life and value to these letters and numbers. S,M,L,XL suddenly mean something. If you’re a size 2 or a size 22 you’re judged. We spend countless dollars get fix causes and the spend hours in the gym trying to remedy the letters and numbers we wear.

But what if those letters and numbers were just that. Letters and numbers? I too found myself in the whirlpool of trying to reach a smaller size. I fought daily with the scale as the numbers would teeter and totter high and low. Never satisfied. Always seeking to be a different letter or number. Because society says one letter is better than the other. Your liked more if you’re a S. Your valued more if your numbers fit into the ideal weight range. You pay less if your numbers are right.

Then one day I woke up.

Suddenly, letters and numbers were just that.

My identity was no longer the letter or numbers on my clothes but my identity was that I was a child of God who fearfully knitted every fiber of my being together to work and operate in such a way that I would glorify Him in all the ways of my life. No, I don’t strive to squeeze my way into an 8 because that 8 is somehow better than the 12 I fit completely comfortable in. Gone are the days where a S on my shirt’s made me feel better about myself.

So whether you’re a 2, 12, 22, or 42, a S, M, L,XL, or XXL – let those be just letters and numbers, don’t let them be your identity, because you were made for more than those labels.

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