First thing in the morning, when the kettle is warming up and my French press awaits, there is nothing about me that screams or, heck, even whispers "together" or "with it". Trust me when I say that everything about me screams, points to, and lights up like a marquee that says "HOT MESS".
It's a label I used to try to hide by running and and achieving, hoping that if I was fast enough, I could fool people from noticing. Then it was a label I wallowed in, thinking that it made me undesirable and less than. Now, it's a label I wear proudly. I do not have it all together, and that's ok. Jesus loves me, this I know. And Jesus loves this Hot Mess. Now as a reminder while I drink that precious French press nectar.