Whether you seek Me consciously or not, I seek you. It is like I am panning for gold. In My search for the loveliness of your soul, I never get tense or edgy as you may do while panning for gold, for I know exactly where the gold is, and I know with the confidence borne of God that I will find it and claim it for My Own. This is not selfishness on My part.
You are Mine, every last one of you. Never were you otherwise, except in the outskirts of your mind. You were never cast out of Heaven. Only your mind elected to leave. You diagnosed yourself as lacking, and so you denied yourself Heaven. You walked out in search of yourself. I never felt you were unworthy. It was you who thought you were unworthy. Your mind told your heart to vacate itself and be on the periphery. At any time, you could have recognized your existence and its belonging on the Mainland.
Oh, beloveds, you didn't accept where you were. You disbelieved. You didn't know where you were, you didn't know where you were going, and you didn't know what you were doing. You made yourself a vagabond of My heart. A centrifugal force of yourself forced yourself out from the warmth of My heart. Never did I exclude you. Never would I.
Will you ready yourself to come back to Me in your awareness? Will you make even a tentative gesture toward Me in recognition of your worthiness? Will you look into My eyes and find yourself, and no longer find yourself wanting? All you are wanting, beloved, is to know that you are stationed deep in My heart. Can you imagine the difference to your life this will make? Can you imagine the lightness with which you will swirl across life? You will untwirl yourself from the imagined bonds you set up to keep yourself away from Me. It was not really I that you feared. You feared yourself, beloved. You feared you did not belong. You feared you couldn't live up to your promise, and so you ousted yourself from Heaven rather than possibly risk finding yourself unworthy to be in Heaven.
What I make is worthy, and I made you, My beloved. With My own hands, I fashioned you. I made you perfect. Short or tall, I made you perfect. Whatever My hands touched turned to perfection. I never could make anything imperfect. I don't care what dent or scratch you find as defect. You are mistaken. That is the whole trouble with you — you are mistaken.
You have mistaken yourself for a poor imitation of yourself. You thought you were a rip-off when, all the while, you've been the original in all its glory. You never were a copy. You were never besmirched. My hands never slipped. I did not bake you in the oven too long or take you out too soon. No, I always did just right.
This is just the problem, that you have yet to know that you are My perfect gift to Myself. You are exactly what I wanted. All I have to do is to desire. It is no work at all for Me to desire one such as you, and then My desire is fulfilled. What I have put together, you cannot take asunder.
You do not have to patch yourself up. There is nothing to patch. You are My perfect love just as you are. Unfurl yourself from the shrouds of ignorance you have clothed yourself in. Let down the braid of your hair. I will climb it, tug on it so you will know My Presence, and then I take you with Me.