God,
I keep treating my own life as a rough draft—
something to get through
on the way to the real thing.

I catch my reflection in the store window
and the critique begins.
I have apologized for the same three flaws
for twenty years.
I keep a quiet list of conditions:
I will love myself when I am braver,
when I am less tired,
when I have done enough.

I am still becoming.
Help me meet the woman I am today
with love.

I have never asked a friend
to be finished before I loved her.
I have made room for her doubts,
put the kettle on,
listened while she tried again
to say what hurt.

Help me offer myself
some of that same kindness.

When I need to change,
help me begin without calling myself worthless.
When I need rest,
help me receive it without earning it first.
When I fall back into an old mistake,
help me make amends
without turning against myself.

God, you know how long I have stood
at my own door,
wondering whether I have done enough
to be welcomed.

Help me take the chain off.

Let me welcome this woman—
still learning, still tired,
in her coat,
holding the day she has had.

Let me give her somewhere to sit.

Amen.