I am a child.

It's the night before an exam, and I have no business being on the computer. 
But, ahem, here I am. 
I like to think coming to this space and pouring out lessons and dreams somehow keeps me sane. 
I have been battling for quite some time with some pretty serious health issues. I've been in an out of doctor's offices, scheduling procedures, and trying with all my might to get through school at the same time. 
I am forced to have down time. I am forced to sit and be still. 
I have been forced to wrestle with some issues that I had so conveniently stuffed into the junk drawer of my brain. 
We all have things we put away in a nice and neat little mental file which we plan to deal with the day after never. 
But the problem with being laid up in bed for a good portion of summer, and having no choice but to be in bed during many hours of any current spare time is this: there's nothing to do but think. 
If you know me, then you know I am fiercely driven and easily motivated by achievement. Though those are great skills put to use in positive ways, they can also be my greatest enemies. 
I began to seriously think recently about my value and my identity. 
What is a girl who finds her identity in scratching things off her to-do list supposed to do when she can barely keep her eyes open long enough to hold a pen?
*Go find a pillow. Just for dramatics. 
*Cry. 
*Lay in a comatose state. 
*Finally, begin to realize that achievement, success, and completion have nothing to do with my identity. 
This might sound all nice and tidy and boxed up pretty, but I'm just going to document this as my current reality. 
I am a child of God. 
and that title, label, and identity... is more than enough. 
My completion of tasks, my professional achievement, my success in the writing world is as far from my identity as the east is from the west. I could not make my bed for weeks, stumble gloriously as a nurse, and miss a deadline but it will bear no weight on how I am viewed by God. 
If you think this is a license to go all wild and crazy or become a lethargic vat of lazy skin and bones, then you're seriously trippin. 
I've simply come to the conclusion that my value and my identity is not, in any way, hidden in merit. It's not hidden in achievement or success. 
Rather, my value and identity is hidden in the wounded hands of my Savior... who, thankfully, can always hold a pen, can always render aid, can always write my story. 
We can say our identity is in Him. We can sing about our value as He sees us. We can quote Scripture.   But I think the true test is seeing if I am capable of believing the truth when there is nothing else for me to hide behind. 
If nursing school was taken away, if health was taken away, if family was taken away, if financial stability was taken away, if my job was taken away, if popularity were taken away, if sex was taken away, if husbands were taken away, if homes/cars/boob jobs/texting/hobbies were taken away.... 
Would my identity remain? Do I know who I am?
Would your identity remain? Do you know who you are?
Sweet friends, as far as east is from the west, know this: 
Who you are is not what you do. 
... and you are always, always loved.