Ink.

No matter how many times I look at my tattoos, I always, always am amazed that I actually went through with getting them.
I have permanent ink within my skin.
And this ink reads of words and phrases that have helped shape me, define me, and are also things in which I aspire to model, or declare.

Grace.
Being my newest, most visible tattoo, I seem to stare/contemplate it quite often.
Numerous times a day.
And as I look at it, I notice it's imperfections, the lines, the script and only after visually picking it apart, do I truly read the word.
And with that, interpret the meaning.

I chose this word simply because it's what I struggle with the most.
It's also what I hope to one day, learn to accept or come to a better understanding of.
At this very moment though, that day seems far away.

Grace is not something I earned.
Nor something I deserve.
And I have it? I've been given it?
This thought confuses me more than the fact that I actually have tattoos.
Grace exists because someone else died for me, and because of that death, all of my sins and transgressions are overlooked. They are whiped clean. I am white as snow.
What?
And I don't mean what in an ignorant way, I simply mean that I cannot even begin to comprehend this. I knew what I was getting into when I got this tattoo. I knew that everyday I would wake up and see it. It's on my wrist after all. And while my wrist holds a specific significance, It also serves to be a spot on my body that I see multiple times a day. Which means that I am reminded of grace often. Just as I wanted it to be. And yes, sometimes, I look at it and think that I am immune to it's meaning. That I get it and that I just need to move on. And then I sit back and realize just how wrong I am. It really does put me in my place.
Grace is beautiful.
And overwhelming.
And such a hard thing for me to grasp.
For some reason, to me, my sins have always seemed worse than everyone else's. Therefore, I am less worthy of this gift.
And still day by day I'm learning that what I've done does NOT matter.
He loves me anyway.

He loves me anyway.