When I Don't Feel Beautiful

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.  -Confucius

I want this space to be somewhere where I can be real and honest.  I want to put my thoughts out there, as I believe there is power in making oneself heard.  Sometimes the hardest step is giving voice to a challenge.

What is it about how women are wired that we constantly find ourselves engaging in negative self talk?  I've noticed it more and more in myself recently and I don't like it.  Here's a [gracefully redemptive] example.

A few Fridays ago, we had our biggest fundraiser of the year at work.  This event brings in 1/3 of the operating budget of our organization, and there are a lot of influential people that attend.  This being my first year on staff, I had little idea of what to truly expect.  But I knew that I wanted to look the part.

We cancelled program with the kids for the day, since the event was moved to a Friday this year.  LA and I spent a few hours in the morning moving things and generally rushing around, getting set up.  My one job was the powerpoint for the event.  I was charged with creating two - one to play it in the background during the mix and mingle, and one to list the live auction items during the event.  They looked awesome [in my humble opinion] and I was proud of my work.  A few hours before go time, I'm at the computer reviewing and making final touches, only to discover the first show won't play and loop automatically.  Even now I don't know what the problem was.  I'm not especially technically minded but I can usually figure things out given enough time.  I realized I created the show on a newer version of software than what is on the computer I'm using, and I do everything I can think of to make it work.  Finally, after no positive results, I resolve to take it home and see if I can run it off my laptop.

During my two hour break between set up and the event, I find not only can I not fix the show, but the IT guy can't offer any help either.  I had spent about 45 minutes troubleshooting only to see I was going to have to recreate the 50 slide show in the older version of software.  Game, set, match.  Technology 1, me 0.

All the "excitement" set me back quite a bit in terms of time and I jump in the shower 15 minutes before I'm due back at work.  I wash my hair quickly and, rather than dry it like I planned, I desperately try and get it to stay in a bun.  At one point, as I'm twisting wet hair into a knot on my head, my arms aching from being above my head for a little two long, the clip I'm trying to use slipping from my damp fingers, I almost cry out in sheer frustration.  I drop my hands and plead aloud that this comes together quickly.  I'm supposed to be at work right now.

I finally get the majority of my hair pulled back and I'm pinning some loose pieces in place as I catch myself thinking:

"This isn't turning out at all like you planned."

"People are going to know you don't belong here."

"Everyone will know you don't know what you're doing and you're trying too hard."

"Your hair is wet and your makeup is rushed and you don't look pretty."

Whoa, stop right there.

I was lucky this time.  Finally, I am able to recognize these negative comments and know that they are not true.  I'm not exactly sure where the change and recognition actually happened.  It used to be that I would hear the negative and know that it wasn't ok, but I couldn't give voice to anything else.  The negative would just sit there, acknowledged as wrong but not truly defied.  It wasn't challenged; it wasn't corrected.  It was at some point during my trip to Nicaragua, and shortly after I returned, that I began to see myself as the Lord sees me.

When I look in the mirror, I see an average girl, with hair that needs a trim and bangs that are too long.  She doesn't have the best skin, but overall she's alright.  Maybe her clothes don't fit exactly right, a little big in places, and there's a slight fold throughout her middle when she bends at the waist.  I see a girl who has big dreams but isn't always sure how to achieve them.  And it doesn't matter how hard I try not to put any stock in physical appearance, I care.  Although I appreciate my body and celebrate what it does for me every day, I can be honest in saying that sometimes I want to look a certain way.  Usually this ideal image does not match up to reality [does it ever?].

I find more and more than I am quick to remind myself and take comfort in knowing that when my Father looks at me, He is delighted.  He is overjoyed at what he has created and he sees that it is good.  The complexities of our physical bodies is awe-inspiring, and the intricacy with which everything works together blows my mind.  I remind myself that He knows me so well that "without the will of my Father in Heaven, not a hair can fall from my head."  [Heidelberg Catechism].  He sees into my heart and knows my dreams.  He knows the places in my life where I struggle or lack discipline.  He knows my insecurities.  And He loves me anyway.

And in that moment, staring into the mirror, I work hard at trying not to find my worth in the frustration of hair that won't stay up and makeup that I use to cover up insecurities.  As I watch myself try and step into this role I think I need to fill, He stops me.  And He speaks to me in a way that I never expected, audibly, through my own voice.  I look at myself in the mirror and I say, "Thank you that I don't have to be beautiful to anyone but You, and to You I am always beautiful."

And I know it's true.

The meaning of [my] life

I've been doing a lot of self-searching lately, trying to figure out where I want to be in a year.  Where I could, realistically, be in a year.

I just moved into this apartment.  I like its location.  I just started this job, and I [usually] like going into work every day.  So why am I looking ahead; why am I thinking of moving on already?

For many years, I have seen myself leaving town and moving abroad.  It's only been in recent years that the dream has begun to be fleshed out, but I still lack the courage to go.  It's a scary thing, especially when you've lived your whole life in one town.

What if I go to a country where I don't speak the language?  How do I open a bank account in a new country?  Can I even work for wages?  What would it be like to uproot every significant relationship I've ever known?  Everyday things would be new - laundry, cooking, getting from one place to another.  And don't even get me started on the idea of my travelling alone, as a single white female.  The idea of completing ordinary tasks seems exciting and new, giving me a chance to marvel at the simplest of things.  But without warning those same tasks can change to objects of paralyzing fear.

But it seems that everywhere I turn, particularly in church and small group, I keep getting the same message:


Go.  Love.  Be.  Travel.  Orphans.  Fear not.


And yet I fear.  Still I doubt.  Is this really where I am called to go?  Is this really who I am meant to be?

Last week, an interesting idea was presented in our small group.  The quote -

"We were created to glorify God"  [John Piper I think although I can't be positive]

What would it mean to embody this idea, to really live it out every day?  I know that the work I'm doing now is meaningful [actually, it's pretty close to what I would want to do as a career.  I think I only want my location to change].  I also know that one's calling is not necessarily the same thing one does as a vocation.  So why do I still feel so called to go?

That same night, a second question was posted.  This is not the first time I've been presented with this inquiry, but it's not one I find terribly realistic so I've never truly considered it.


"What would you do if you knew you could not fail?"


[Who can imagine a world without failure?  Failure is always a possibility, a scary one.]

What would I do?  I would travel the world, write, create art and not worry about how it's not perfect right away.  I would work with orphans, see and do things, leave a notable mark on the earth and the lives of its inhabitants.

And then tonight, a final thought, related to our small group study of John 6:1-25.  Mission [the work and opportunities we are given by God to accomplish, partnering with Him as His kingdom is realized, whether or not we choose to accept them] precedes faith.  Contrary to our belief, we don't have to have a certain amount of faith before setting out on mission with Jesus.  We don't have to have certain skills perfected; we don't have to have it all together.  Faith is the expectation that God will show up.

Perhaps my calling is not overseas.  Perhaps I am called down the street, to the orphaned of this community.  Perhaps I am called to a community in another state.  I don't know yet [does anyone ever know for sure?], but I'm eager to find out.

James 1:27

This week has felt crazy.  I've had things going on before and after work almost every day and it wasn't until Thursday that I got back the apartment before 11pm.  Although the days felt long and I was tired by their end, there really wasn't anything special about them.  Most of the activities were just life.  But it sure felt like I had a lot of life pushed into only a few days.

One of the more notable events occured on Tuesday evening, when I met with the nurses at RMH to pack 6.5 totes for approximately 5 hours. 

With our 6 team members, we're able to bring a total of 12 totes, each weighing in at 50 pounds a piece.  Once we get on the ground in Ethiopia, we'll have over a ton of supplies with us. 

I'm holding my heart out but clutching it too - Nickel Creek "Reasons Why"

This part of the process affected me more than I thought it would.  I've been excited about the trip from day 1, looking forward to experiencing something new, fulfilling a dream I've had for a long time, and learning many new things.  But seeing some of the things we're taking, and hear what some of them could be used for, really struck a chord with me.  I knew this trip would be hard.  There's no denying that.  But having talked about it with some of the nurses, it has potential to be a lot harder than I could have thought.  Of course, the unknown leaves things open to your imagination, which often translates (for me at least) to thinking of the mroe than worst case senerio.

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you - John 14:18

It's a bit like the beginning of a new relationship.  The honeymoon phase is gone and its almost like I'm done dreaming.  Reality is starting to set in and I realize this is going to be hard.  Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done thus far in my life.  I will have to physically put myself lower than probably everyone that comes to the clinic, something I've never had to really do before.  I'm going to have to work hard and learn hard and pray hard and play hard.  And I'm a little scared.  What if I discover I can't do it (anything medical) and I hate it (Africa) and I just want to go home?  What if I fail?  I'm not sure that I really can fail because I know God is preparing and using each of us differently.  And I know this is a trip I need to go on.  I've known that since March when the idea first started floating around.

I don't know what's going to happen, but I do know my senses are going to be assailed in a way they never have been before.  Not to mention my emotions and my spirit.  But I also know that my God is a loving God and is holding me through all of the pre-trip emotions and unexpectedness and dependency.  And I know he is growing me (I might be feeling some growing pains!)  But I'll be walking taller soon, more confident too I'm sure.

The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' - Matthew 25:40

Knight in Shining Sneakers

I've been dog sitting for the last week, staying in a strange house with a strange animal.  Things had gone as well as to be expected until Friday evening, when I experienced a fear previously unknown to me. 

Let me preface that, growing up, I did not live in a neighborhood.  Our driveway was uphill and gravel and few visitors ever arrived unexpectedly.  We did not have a doorbell, and aside from known guests, UPS men, and expected visitors, few people ever arrived on my doorstep.

Friday evening I had retired, light out, head on pillow around 11:30pm.  Something woke me just after midnight.  At first I thought it was a clock, marking the hour, but upon further consideration, I realized it to be the doorbell.  Nervous, I decided to stay in bed.  My logic was, "It only rang once, so if I don't answer perhaps whoever it is will move about their business."  Ten minutes later, it rang twice more.  Following that same logic, I remained in bed while my small furry companion began barking.  Maybe 30 seconds after the bell, I noticed headlights shining in the driveway, signalling what I hoped to be the visitor's exit.

At this point, I'm still in bed, watching the window with intent eyes, listening for signs of someone in or around the house.  The house I'm sitting at is at the beginning of a subdivision, the first house.  While it is situated in a neighborhood, it's still a bit far removed, and one would have to have the intention of arriving here, rather than accidently stumbling upon a house.  The driveway forks into two, one leading up to the front door, one going down and around to the basement.  I have never before noticed headlights shining into the bedroom window so I have no idea where this car would have been in order to achieve that illumination. 

Unable to sleep, I lay in bed, my mind racing, until almost quarter till 1.  I finally decide to get up and walk around the upper level of the house, listening and reassuring myself that all's well.  Everything checks out and I get back in bed.  Not five minutes passes and the headlights appear in my window again, followed by frantic doorbell ringing.  Terrified, I call my father, who says he'll come over and check things out.  I end the night in the master bathroom, door locked, on the phone with my mother, completely outside myself.

By the time dad arrives, the doorbell has been ringing constantly for 15 minutes or more, and I've come to the conclusion that it's malfunctioning in some way.  Dad removes it from its perch on the doorframe outside, as I sit in the floor to ensure our furry friend doesn't wander out of doors, and as he walks in with it, I notice he's wearing new white tennis shoes.  His diagnosis is that someone did push the button and it remained stuck, which caused it to ring insessently.

I will admit to little experience in dealing with true strangers.  I'll also admit to an extreme dislike of confrontation.  While I was braver than I thought I could be (just getting out of bed was a huge step), I still wish to be more bold and willing to protect what's mine instead of lying fearfully by.  Last night my brother and his friend did me a huge favor and stayed the night with me, bringing video games and laughter as protection.  Now it's my turn to learn how to be able to protect myself.