Same flesh, two very different souls…
2014
She was beautiful.
She was fifty pounds lighter than she is now.
Her face was almost always covered in makeup, accentuating every feature.
Her haircut was cute and sassy, perfectly matching her bold, flirty personality.
She was just beginning her journey at the University of Kentucky, unsure of what she wanted, but eager to be noticed.
She walked to class day after day, conscious of the way she carried herself, hoping the athletes would see her, hoping someone would want her.
And for a time, it worked.
She went on dates with basketball and football players—men whose intentions were obvious, yet she didn’t care.
She came home from another night of being taken advantage of and tore herself apart. She was too fat, too quiet, too loud—too much, yet never enough.
She fell into the arms of men who loved only the body she despised.
Outwardly, she looked like she had it all together. Inside, she was a mess—a beautiful, broken mess.
She knew about Jesus, but she didn’t know Him.
And yet, a quiet transformation was already beginning, though she could not see it.
2019
I’m still beautiful.
I’m fifty pounds heavier now, but my beauty is different—deeper, steadier.
Makeup is rare, but my skin is healthier, more alive.
My hair is long and usually tucked into a messy bun atop my head.
I’ve just finished my journey at the University of Kentucky, but this time, I’ve discovered Jesus. I’ve also discovered a passion for education that fills my heart in ways I never expected.
Now, I walk through the woods of Kentucky, conscious of how I carry myself—but my hope isn’t to be seen by men. It’s to draw attention to the One who redeemed my messy heart.
I still mess up daily. But now, I’m loved anyway—completely, unconditionally.
I go on dates with my husband, who longs to know every layer of me, to love me for who I truly am. And I want the same for him.
I come home from nights of being deeply, wholly loved—by a man who honors me as Christ honors the Church—and I start to see myself the way he sees me.
At night, I sleep next to a man who loves the soul within the body that I now love.
I painfully acknowledge that I am still a wreck, but this wreck is beautiful and redeemed, because I know Jesus.
And my eyes—once blind to the quiet, radical change—now see clearly how He has transformed everything.
