“Even when I slip into the background, hidden behind the holy work of loving and giving, God never stops seeing me. He calls me by name — reminding me I am not lost, but held.”

A gentle reflection for the tender and tired

There are days I forget to see me.
Not because I don’t love this life—
I do.
This miracle I cradle in my arms is worth every sleepless hour.

But sometimes, in the swirl of feedings and foldings, soothing and silence, I slip into the background.

Not gone—
just hidden.
Tucked behind soft shushing, and the way my body becomes a safe place for someone else to belong.

Most days I don’t mind the disappearing.
It’s holy work, to be the shelter for smallness, to be the calm in someone else’s storm.

But sometimes, when the house goes quiet, I wonder if I still know the shape of my own soul.

And yet—even when I’m unseen by my own eyes, God sees me.
He sees the hidden parts no one else notices:
the quiet ache,
the fierce devotion,
the strength to keep going.

“People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
— 1 Samuel 16:7

When Mirrors Go Unnoticed

There was a moment not long ago when I walked past the mirror and didn’t even look.

Not because I was avoiding myself — just because… I didn’t expect to see anything new.

I was still in the same pajamas from the night before.
No frills — just me.
The same body that carried a miracle, still slowly healing in ways most people can’t see.

There’s so much pressure to bounce back — to fit into old jeans, old energy, old versions of ourselves.

But my body doesn’t feel like it belongs to the “before” anymore.
It’s changed.
And while I’m not ashamed of it, I haven’t quite made peace with it either.

Quietly Going Missing

It had been one of those days.

The baby needed near-constant closeness.
The house felt like a quiet chorus of unfinished things — a floor that needed mopping, hair that needed deep conditioning, plants I hadn’t watered in weeks.

I didn’t complain. I wouldn’t.
This child is joy. This life is full of grace.
But somewhere in the middle of all the giving, I had quietly gone missing.

I didn’t cry.
I didn’t fall apart.
I just faded into the rhythm of doing.

And in that soft disappearance, I realized something:
Even when I forget to look, God never stops seeing me.

The Girl in Old Photos

But there’s another kind of missing I’m still learning to name.

Sometimes I look through old photos of myself — photos from a time when I was always dieting and trying to lose weight.

I wanted to look good, because that’s where I thought my worth lived.

After every heartbreak, I would change how I looked, hoping somehow it would make me feel worthy.

Now, I sit here in my postpartum body, and the girl in those photos feels like a stranger.

This woman — the one sitting here today — hesitates in photos, stares in the mirror a little too long, searching for traces of that girl she used to be.

My heart aches for the girl in the pictures…
The one who seemed perfect, yet never felt good enough.

But the woman here now…
she knows her identity is in Christ.

I know now that my looks are not what Heaven is after.
Heaven is after my heart.
And that is such a deep and healing relief.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine.”
— Isaiah 43:1

He Knows My Name

Jesus doesn’t search for a polished version.
He doesn’t measure me by productivity or appearance.

He sees the heart —
the parts no one else notices,
the ache I don’t say out loud,
the strength it takes to simply keep going.

When I miss myself, He doesn’t.
When I forget how to speak up for my own soul, He still listens.
When I move quietly through the day — unnoticed, unseen — He sees every detail.

Even in this version of me that feels softer, slower, stretched thin — I am not lost.
I am hidden in Christ.
Held in His hands.
Named by the One who never forgets who I am.

✨ A Gentle Invitation

Maybe you’ve been missing yourself too.
Not in a dramatic, obvious way — but in the slow fading that happens when your world revolves around others.

If that’s you, hear this:
You are not invisible.
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are being held.

The One who knit you together still knows every thread.
Even when you feel undone, He calls you beloved.
He calls you His.

🌬️ A Holy Exhale

You don’t have to try so hard.

You don’t have to hide how much it’s taken to keep going.

You are not measured by clean floors, calm voices, or jeans that fit again.

I see you.

I saw you before the stretch marks.
Before the sleepless nights.
Before your hands were always full.

And I still see you now.

You are not forgotten.
You are not failing.
You are not too far gone to be found again.

It’s okay to not feel like yourself.
It’s okay to miss who you used to be.
But don’t believe for a moment that I’ve stopped calling you Mine.

You are loved exactly as you are.

Breathe, beloved. Let that be enough for today.

Scripture Meditation

1 Samuel 16:7 — “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
Isaiah 43:1 — “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine.”
Colossians 3:3 — “For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”

When I miss myself.