ID, please

You're at the movie theater, going to see a rated R (for violence, of course) movie and they want to ensure you're actually over the age or 17. They ask for I.D. You give them your driver's license. The same goes for buying cigarettes (which I've never done) and wine. It happens when you're getting through security at the airport and when you write a check. And what tells the cashier or security guard that you are who you claim to be? A plastic card with your name, address, date of birth and picture on it. That's it. That's how they identify you.

But what REALLY identifies who you are? Your hair color? The clothes you wear? The things that make you tick? What about the words you use when things are rough? Or the way you react to someone who's really just chapped your hide? Is it the amount of letters that you have behind your name? Is it the size of shoes you wear? Or the house you live in? Or the size of the diamond on your left ring finger? Or the fact that you even have a diamond on your left ring finger?

I would hope that I'd be identified to anyone who doesn't know me solely by the things listed above. Because, sure, those things are part of who you are. The clothes I choose to wear is part of my personality. My shoe size is the same as thousands of other people and is just one small feature of the physical body God made for me. The diamond on my left ring finger was chosen by my husband and most definitely defines the part of me that tells the world, "I'm taken and I'm committed to that." But those things aren't all of who I am.

I am, in short, a daughter of the King. He directs my path and I may choose to follow or not to follow. While I wonder where I'll be in five years, He's already got it all lined up. He is the ultimate event planner -- my dream job in my second life! He's got the perfect house picked out, with just the right number of kids already a-brewin' in my womb. He has the perfect jobs lined up for Brad and for me. He is the reason I get up every morning, because without him, I would not have air to breathe.

My prayer is that my life is a living testimony of my relationship with Him. Am I perfect? Absolutely not. Do I let a not-so-nice word or two slip every once in a while? Of course. Do I get caught up in the negativity and gossip-filled atmosphere at work? Occasionally. Do I strive to be better about not doing so? You bet! Can I do it on my own? Psshh, never!

He has given me parents that chose to raise me in His Church. They weren't always perfect, but they were perfect for me. I have an awesome husband that loves me despite my faults and because of my strengths. He's blessed me with friends -- some that I met when I was five; others that I met two years, or even six months ago -- that have consoled, rejoiced and supported me in everything I've ever done. These people have helped mold and shape me throughout the years and will continue doing so. I am extremely wealthy in that regard. I am a daughter of the King. And that's what defines who I am. That is my true identity.