It was a few years back at one of my first speaking engagements. The church was small, and I had to borrow a projector to take with me because they didn’t have one. I don’t remember much else about the talk I gave, but clear as day I remember an older man approaching me afterward. What he said confused me at the time, and I’d like to believe he didn’t realize what he was implying, or that it would make me feel about 2 inches tall.
He told me how inspiring my talk was, and that he was glad I came. But then his voice dropped a little so Adam, my husband, wouldn’t hear.

You should really give your husband more credit, though. Not many men would, you know, do what he did.

I smiled and nodded and did my best to be gracious. He moved along and I greeted the rest of the lovely people before hubby and I packed everything up for the drive home. Back in the car, Adam asked what the man said to me, and apparently he’d said something very similar to my husband, who agreed that it was a strange thing to say.
Thinking back on the talk I gave that day, the only things I really talked about Adam doing with me were marriage and parenthood.
Ah, I get it. Not many men would marry someone like me. Not many men have the strength of character to love someone so severely disabled. Not many men would see me as the ideal mother to their children.
I get it.
And until I met Adam, I thought exactly that. I’m no one’s ideal partner.
And while my husband is a man of strong character and generous spirit, I dare believe that I’m a catch. I dare believe him when he says he thanks God that he found me. I have the audacity to believe that, crooked little arms or not, I am beautiful. I have the nerve to believe my husband when he tells me that my shriveled hands are the only ones he wants to hold, even though they never squeeze back.
I am far from an ideal anything, other than an ideal Sarah Kovac. And clearly I’m not what that man envisioned as a dream girl, but I’m somebody’s dream come true. It may sound conceited, but I need to hear myself say it. I need you to hear me say it.

I was created to love and be loved. I am worthy of it, not because I am perfect but because a perfect God, in His infinite wisdom, chose to breathe His life into me. He didn’t have to create me, but He did.
I’m guessing that you’re not perfect either, and maybe you’ve been told you’re not worthy of the love you receive or don’t yet receive. Maybe the person telling you those lies is you.
No matter who you are or are not, what you’ve done or failed to do, you exist for the sake of love. You are built to thrive on love as on water. As on food. You are just as “worthy” of love as you are the things that keep you breathing.
So breathe in, breathe out, and know that you cannot fail enough to be unworthy of air to breathe or love to nurture your spirit.
I am worthy of at least that. And so are you.