Before I even start writing today, I have to admit that
I’m surprised I’m attempting something so deep while my head is this foggy. (Yes, folks, cold #4! We are now blaming it on: a) a lack of a flu shot; and b) readjusting to American germs.)
Sure, works for me. 😀
And now that I’ve gotten that out there (mostly so you can all feel sorry for me…just kidding ;)) I’ll continue with the nitty-gritty honesty that is about to ensue.
It’s pretty gritty…just a warning.
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I w as
not really a cute girl.
I mean, as a baby/toddler/elementary student, sure. I had the cutes…most kids do. I’m actually totally in love with this super cheesy picture of me from around age 4.
I just think it captures who I am…even now. Someone who loves life, who’s willing to smile even when they hate their clothes (ICK!) and hair…true, oh-so-true, and who will add a little cheese to life…I do plenty of that.
But as a pre-teen and teenager, I hated the way I looked. I was not fat by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t a stick-thin, size zero, either. I didn’t have the athletic ability to be a superstar or the name, which is what often determines the success of an athlete in a small town.
I was socially awkward and a nerd…and didn’t know what to do about it.
I struggled with friendships and longed with everything in me to be one of the cool kids.
I wanted so, so badly to be
Beautiful.
Nothing in me was even remotely close to it. I never had the right haircut, the right clothes, or the right people to think I might be. In fact, the only picture I have of me during that time is this one. Just check out that perm…can we scream, “90’s!” really loud, all together now?! Geez…I can’t believe I paid money for that. Ugh.
Eventually I “grew up” (haha, I know you’re all thinkin’ it! :D) and went to college, met my wonderful man, got married, had some adventures, and had my amazing baby girl.
And during that period of growing up, of course the true concept of beauty began to weave its way into my heart.
I know, now, that it isn’t the clothes I wear or what my hair looks like, although I’d like to think I’ve improved somewhat in those areas. 
I know, too, that it’s not about being friends with the cool people, although I think my friends are the absolute best! And that it’s not about driving the coolest car (although we rock the Dodge Caravan…they should soooo hire us for a commercial…) or having the most expensive house or things.
We all know that true beauty is on the inside.
But what does that beauty look like? I’ve been sorting out that concept in my head for a couple days. And came to the conclusion that
I am not beautiful.
I get jealous,
I get irritated, I get impatient. I get mean, I say things I shouldn’t, I get selfish. I mean, not all the time…but those things? They are present in my life now and then.
And it’s ugly.
I think the most amazing beauty emerges when a person is handed something ugly and chooses to make it beautiful.
My life…was ugly. Full of sin, brokenness, and anger.
I could go into minute details, but those of you closest to me don’ t need
them because you already know.
When I was sixteen, I was about as broken as a person could be…and for all purposes, abandoned, alone to sort out the mess that my life had become.
And then…I look. At the following sixteen years, and how God redeemed. How He fixed cracks and glued pieces and made things new out of shards of shatteredness.
He took a life that looked hopeless and gave me a reason to hope.
That’s beautiful.
He didn’t make everything perfect or the pain go away.
Instead, He taught me that there is beauty when we choose to rise above pain and make something out of it. But not on our own…in HIS strength.
And each day I have the choice to be
Beautiful.
A choice to put aside feelings of anger and jealousy and let the love of God control me and what goes on in my heart and actions.
To let Him take the pieces and use them for His glory.
Every single day I have
Another chance at beautiful.
