Worship looks like this:

An extra hour of sleep

because my body asked gently.

A meal that fills me

without apology.

Saying no

even when I’m shaking.

Saying yes

only when I mean it.

It looks like red lipstick on a Monday.

Tending to my stretch marks like wildflowers.

Taking pictures of myself

with no one else in mind.

It looks like

talking back to the voice in my head