God stands by me,
When I feel hollowed out,
Unjust, imperfect, full ruffled, feeling without,
He finds a way for me to be light,
Filled up by grace, his spirit filled might,
He stands by me,
Not in front nor behind,
Always by my side,
Even though the long dark night,
To remember his promise,
His only given son,
Gave his blood for us,
So one day I might shine His light
How much do I think I’m worth?
A crumpled up $100 note?
Am I worth the time to take care of me?
Making me a priority,
Looking after my health?
Do I think somedays I’m a crumpled bag,
Dirtied in the side walk?
Not worth good food,
Or to even find the strength to talk?
How much do I think I’m worth?
Why does it vary so?
Am I different one day to the next,
Should I allow myself to take the blow?
For I am nothing short of Gods creation,
A beautiful perfect art work,
One of his children,
And so, why do I question my value?
I am totally worth the walk to my kids school,
And that extra glass of water,
I am totally worth listening to my body,
After all it’s the temple we are granted.
I am worth more than gold in the eyes of our Lord,
So why do I sit here, day after day and question my own worth?
For I am worth a thousand more rubies,
I am worth more than a pot of gold,
So why do I not think that day after day,
Why do I take the low road?
For sometimes I need a reminder,
That getting close to God can hurt,
Satan’s tricky lies come close,
To purge me from my perch.
Sometimes I need to remember,
The love that has created me,
The God given gifts of creation,
Packed up entirely in me.
Lord I pray, for anyone here reading this that they realise their worth here on this earth and may you strengthen their ways each day.
In Jesus name, amen.
For what are you worth little pheasant mam
Only as much as you can do,
Only worth a penny or two,
Worth as much as kings daughter
Or just enough to make a quarter…
How do you measure your own worth,
In words,
In writing,
In silver,
How high are you on your perch.
Is a ten dollar a ten dollar,
Even when it’s crushed,
Even when it’s dropping wet,
Mushed up in some mud,
What about when its broken,
Ripped or torn apart,
Or put in someone’s pocket and caught under a fart,
Does a ten dollar lose its value,
When it’s been taped back up together,
What about a loved one,
How much are they worth to you…
So why don’t I value myself the same way I value those,
Those loved ones and mundane things around me,
Why don’t I see myself from glasses made in rose,
I find myself constantly fighting myself in a plea to see myself as those,
For a place for me to be,
Up in my own authority,
To uphold myself and my dignity,
In my own value of liberty…
And why can’t I just know my own value I hold,
When dragged into the masses,
I feel so darn cold,
So much undeserving,
So I only see my flaws,
Every little detail I hold up to behold,
Every part is scrutinized,
Under my own authority,
And why do I never feel enough,
No matter how much thought swapping I do,
It’s mostly surface level stuff,
No impact on my heart,
And maybe, just maybe one day I’ll write my appreciation to myself from my heart.
In Her Heart Healing 
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