Maybe Jesus wants you to be a little chubby
with a yard sale coffee table.
Back when he was knitting you together
inside your momma’s tummy
(decorating her like he decorated the Virgin Mary,
with holy stretch marks and a bonus layer
of blessed belly fat),
perhaps he had a plan for you
to grow up to be strong instead of just skinny.
Maybe the Good Lord knew that So-and-So
would shut you out
(or shut you down) if you were
one more double-zero for Jesus.
Maybe in the endless scope of eternal souls,
he had a reason for hovering over the darkness
and planting his voice
in the precise size of you.
Consider the remote possibility
that God didn’t mess up when he made you.
Consider the remote possibility that a perfect God
made you the exact sort of perfect you are
so that you could hold up your head and walk
like a daughter of the King.
What if he looked down on
a world hooked on porn and little butts in yoga pants
and said, “My daughter will teach them
how dignity looks.”
Perhaps he called you to wipe the tears of
women who hate themselves,
women who step on the scales every morning
and measure their worth in pounds of dirt.
And while we’re at it,
maybe that $10 beat-up coffee table
is part of the plan, too.
Maybe Mrs. Instagram-with-everything-new
needs to sit on your worn out old couch for an hour
and see how comfortable you are with the world to come.
Maybe she needs to cook with you
on your 1980’s linoleum floor,
sticking her finger in the batter of the flavor of joy
you can only whip up in a room just like that.
Maybe you’re not all wrong but all right--
and not just all right but just perfect
for this moment right now,
called by God to believe only
that he has a plan for the you
you already are.