You are a palace.

Dear You,

Or me.

A few days ago I talked to a dear friend. A friend who I swear has all of the wisdom in the world flowing through her finger tips and out of her mouth. She compared herself to a house—how sometimes you need to paint and learn to love the color tan, even though it’s hard to change, even if you love your blue paint. And I’m sure you’re reading this thinking, weird? I promise I’m going somewhere with this.

C.S. Lewis once said that we are all houses.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running towers, making courtyards.

You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come live in it Himself.”

But to be honest, sometimes I feel more like a trailer. Sometimes I feel trampled on by others. Sometimes I feel trampled on by myself. Sometimes I feel like God just needs to tear me all down and build me back up again. And lately I’ve had a hard time loving my paint chips, my withered creaks.

But CS Lewis also said that if we knew of our potential, we would understand that we are all possible gods and goddesses. And one day I want to walk into my house, or look at who I am, and gasp at all that I am. I think Heaven will be like that. I think our Father will grab our hands and say, “My dear Talor! Look at you.” And we will all fall to our knees when we see what we are really capable of, how majestic and beautiful we really are. We will see the beauty of those paint chips and withered floors. Because those are the things that make us who we are.

I am a daughter of a King. A King. A Father that loves the pieces out of my quirks, my flaws, and my chipped blue paint.

I will get there one day.

I will love myself as much as He loves me.

I think I owe that to Him.

Love always//talor.

A Letter to Myself

 Dear Me,

I cannot expect my body to be overly muscley, stick thin, or perfectly perfect. Why should it be? Will it make more people love me? No. Will it really make me happier? Probably not. Does it really matter? Not in the long run.

The women I look up to, who I inspire to be, I inspire to be not for their thigh gap, their toned arms, or their perfect body. I look up to them for their determination, their strength, their ability to love and to laugh and to be courageous. There is no correlation between thigh gaps and courage. So I should stop treating it as though it will give me such.

The man I want to love me for eternity will not love me more for having perfectly shaped legs or a perfectly flat stomach. Because eternal love is unconditional love, and he will love me when I work out and he will love me when I gain 5 pounds. Why? Because a flat stomach doesn't give me love and respect. Because a thigh gap doesn't tell you how lovely my personality is. Because there is no correlation between love and perfect curves. So I will stop treating it as though it will give me such.

 And how sad that I should be so harsh on my own body? The body that wakes me in the morning and puts me to rest at night.
The body that cradles my soul.

So, instead of striving towards a thigh gap, or for sleek arms, or a flat six pack, I will wish for other things.

I will wish to always have legs that can carry me up into the mountains and back down to my home. I will wish for lungs that make it so I can laugh for hours and run for miles. I will wish for arms that hug perfectly and cradle little souls. I will wish for a backbone that stands straight and firm. I will wish for hands that can always paint and inspire.

Because those things create love, laughter, determination, strength and courage.

Breathe.




I deserve love--whether I'm perfect or not.
(repeatx10000)

I love you.

Love, Me

Chop chop.

Okay so after everything that has happened the last little while, I really felt like I needed a change. Not a simple change like painting my nails, or rearranging my room. Something a little more drastic. A little more permanent. And if I had done this in high school, I would have balled my eyes out. But right now, I feel pretty dang good. 

I cut my hair off. A seven inch difference. 

And I know, I know. What's the big deal? 

Well I was SUPER attached to my hair. In a way, it defined me. But I also felt like it hid me. And to be honest, a big reason I kept my hair long (for like a decade) was because everyone told me to NEVER cut it and how pretty it was, and how boys liked long hair better. Blah blah blah. So I kept it. 

And then this week I cut it. Soooo refreshing. It's just so nice to have a change and say goodbye to the "old you"--even though nothing has really changed. 

And Dean told me I looked like a Romney. I think he meant to say I looked political--which is fitting because this week I'm officially declaring my major in political science. 

Cheers to short hair and politics.