I was shaped by something holy,
crafted with intention:
to be pure,
to be gentle,
to be patient,
and to walk untouched
by the temptations of the world.

My Bible says,
“She is clothed with strength,”
and some days
I wonder if those words
were ever meant for me.
Doubt creeps in,
and I question
if they truly fit me at all.

I know what it means to doubt.
The quietness unraveling,
the silent questions:
my worthiness,
my purpose,
my strength.
The thoughts taking control
of my restless mind.

But on Sunday mornings,
the quietness answers me.
Between the soft-lit pews
and voices lifting in praise,
I find true peace:
a miracle,
created just for us.

And in those gentle hymns,
I feel it:
“clothed with strength.”
The woman I am meant to be:
the one who questions,
the one who falters,
but the one who always finds her way home.