My Alabaster Box

My offering, My alabaster box.My alabaster box.

Customized. Made of gypsum.

My fine grain of white marble, my pride.

The size so great, making my worth so high.

My alabaster box,

I am supposed to break it at the feet of a man.

One who will find me worthy enough to want me and I would honor him with it- or maybe not. All men are the same.

I would rather keep my alabaster box.


My alabaster box,

Filled with the land’s most expensive essence.

Rarest of it’s kind in the whole of Egypt and all the lands with the finest perfumes.

No, it was not a gift from mom or dad.

It was a reward to myself from all my wages -my wages of sin.

I have been around. I was filthy and wretched and filled with lust but I had my box, at least, that was my sense of pride.

Not until I met a man.

A man that was hundred percent man and hundred percent God.

A man that stilled the storm of my heart and calmed my waters.

A man that looked over a sinner like me and called me his friend.

A man, a man that said, “come out” and a dead damsel like me came walking out.

That was a man who deserved my love.

He deserved my pride and he deserved my alabaster box.

He deserves it. He deserves it all.

My praise, my worship, my love, my substance, my life and my honor.

No words.

Just in awe of his His majesty , most beautiful.

At his feet, I laid it all.

At his feet, I broke it all.

I broke my pride, I broke my shame, I broke my pain, my alabaster box.

I found a man, one who deserved it all.

Also readA Letter To My 18-year-old Self


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