I’ve been working my way through this book, “Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of the Woman’s Soul” by John and Stasi Eldredge. One thing it has made very clear to me is that the enemy has a special hate towards women. Women are a reflection of God’s glory. We have the captivating, alluring beauty of God. We are beautiful, life-giving wonders to explore and the enemy hates that. So, he seeks to destroy women through his many schemes. He uses situations to make us feel alone, neglected, and abandoned. He attacks our womanhood, our beauty, and our femininity.
This truth has exposed a lot of the lies I believed about myself. Days would pass and something new would click that brings me back to that lesson in the book. There was one recent moment that caught me by surprise. So much so that it brought me to tears.
I was laying down, journaling, when I realized I was writing with a pink pen. Now, I have never really liked pink. If anything, I’ve gone out of my way to not have anything pink. It’s girly. When I think of pink, I imagine overly excited women who are obsessed with Disney and sneeze glitter. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a dreary angry person living in a blackened world. Pink has just always bothered me.
So there I was writing with my pink pen and I liked it. I smiled because at the time, I was writing about God. How I was happy to be getting to know Him as my Daddy, my Papa, after years of not having that intimacy with him. I felt young. I felt innocent. I felt soft. I felt like a little girl. A little girl who liked pink and all things girly, sitting talking to her Papa. And then I cried, because in that moment, I realized I didn’t really dislike pink. I resented everything pink represented.
To me, pink represented a happy very feminine woman. A woman, who was seen by her dad when she was a child. A dad who cared for her, wanted her, loved her, and told her how beautiful she was (I didn’t have that). This image came to mind of a little girl twirling in a dress, she felt pretty. It was for the girls who were seen. Pink was for the girls/women who were able to dream. Who fantasized of “happily ever after”. As my sister would say, “Pink is Princess”.
Then it hit me. “I’ve never felt like anyone’s princess. Let alone God’s”. I cried. I grieved for my younger self and adult self. Then I cried even harder because as God showed me an area where I was hurt, he also comforted me. He reassured me. He said “You are my girl. I love you Princess.”
I bawled. I smiled. I cried.
I am God’s Princess.
I never would’ve imagined healing would have to me experiencing colors differently.