My prayer this morning

As I climbed out of bed this morning, this was my desperate prayer to the Lord:
Father, I give you all of me. Yes, ALL of me. Even the messy parts. Even the ugly parts. Even the parts that I wish weren't there. Even the parts that I thank you for. Even the parts I so desperately want to change. Even the parts that are longing and searching for a husband. Even the parts that want to belong SO badly. Even the parts that don't make sense. Even the parts that you are changing. Even the parts that I WISH were changing. Even the parts that are full of joy and laughter and life. Even the parts that give me so much heart ache and pain. Even the parts that I want to control. Even the parts that I hide (ESPECIALLY the parts that I hide). Even the parts that don't make sense. (Did I say that already? A lot of parts don't make sense). Even the parts that aren't sure who I am, who YOU are, what you're doing or where we're going together. Even the parts you've so beautifully changed. Even the parts that I celebrate. Even the parts that reflect what a good Dad you are. Even the parts that are afraid. Even the parts that you've set free. Even the parts that are sad and lonely. Even the parts that are bitter and jealous and angry. Even the parts that are addicted. Even the parts that help me remember I'm not who I used to be. I give you EVERYTHING this morning. I want it to be true when I say "there's nothing I hold on to." I want to leave all of this, all of ME in a crumpled mess at your feet. Because I know there's no place I'd rather be, and there's no place all of these parts of me are safer. This is my greatest desire. My cry of hope to you. My song of letting go. My surrender. My prayer this morning.