Don't Just Call Me Beautiful

The other night, I found myself in downtown Nashville, on Broadway.

As I sat on the window sill at one of the bars, I started people watching. 

I watched bachelor parties play pool, bachelorette parties dance, guys hit on girls, and girls flirt with guys. 

I watched people who had a little bit too much to drink, to those who ordered water. 

I also observed my stunningly gorgeous friend get hit on by almost every guy in the bar. 

It didn't take long until I was wishing I was anyone else but me, and anywhere else but there. 

I felt invisible. 

I felt undesirable. 

The conversation running through my head was as followed, "You've gained weight, so, you aren't beautiful anymore……Your outfit makes you look fat…You are ugly."

That night, it was as if I had retreated back to old, but familiar years. 

However, instead of ordering 3 pizzas and 4 hamburgers, I ordered nothing. 

Instead, I wrote in my iphone notes, "God, I just feel so ugly, so, so ugly."

As I held the phone in my hands, I heard myself say,"Don't call me beautiful."

It wasn't with a degrading, insulting, or self-defeating voice. 

Rather, it was a voice of confidence, grace and assurance. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me talented. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me honest. 

Don't call me beautiful, call me real. 

You see, on Saturday night, I realized that the thing I have desired and strived for most in my life, is the very thing that has taken away everything that makes me, me.

While I have been obsessed with my wrinkles,  recovery, and being a, "good" Christian, I have hidden the parts of me that don't always fit into a nice, put together, Sunday-morning box. 

I love Jesus, but I don't always love myself. 

And somedays are worse than others. 

Just before I wrote this, my sister-in-law called me, and told me how my niece had won a Library contest for her drawing on a book mark. It was her talent, her gifting, that was noticed, not her beauty. 

Like everyone else, I have told both my nieces they are beautiful, over, and over, and over, in hopes that they never go down the road I went down. 

However, the only way they will not be tempted to question their worth and appearance, is if they can appreciate their unique skills, personality, and gifts. 

Hear me out when I say that calling someone beautiful is not bad.

That was not the intention of writing this. 

There is just so much more to a person than their looks. 

If all you call someone is beautiful, they will enter into a race that they will never be able to win. 

Don't call me beautiful. 

Call me lovely. 

Call me sensitive. 

Call me deep. 

Call me different. 

Call me relentless. 

But please, don't just call me beautiful. 

Good Friday and The Iceberg

Looking back on my life, I realize that I  have had more appointments with counselors than dates.

For awhile, I was seeing a new counselor every month, in hopes that one of them would stick. I don't remember any of their names, just random things that happened during our sessions. 

For example, one counselor told me to close my eyes, and imagine I was a color and shape. 

Out of an attempt to make the session as short as possible because I had to use the bathroom, I quickly picked out a black blob. 

This was probably due to the mascara that made it's way onto the surface of my eyeball.

And so for the next hour, he psychoanalyzed the black blob I spoke of, not realizing that I wasn't taking the exercise seriously. 

And then there was the counselor with the iceberg picture. 

On our first visit, she pointed to a picture of a iceberg that was hanging on her wall.

This picture shows not only the tip that is above water, but  also the part that is underneath.

"This," she said as she pointed to the part that is underwater, "This is what we need to deal with"

She saw past my smile, my good-girl attitude, and my many masks.

I was a onion, with multiple layers that needed shedding, a lot of shedding. 

Today as I was writing in my journal, I had a thought randomly come to me, "Believe in the behind the scenes."

After I watched my pen write those words, I thought about the iceberg, but in a different way. 

On the surface, it seems as if many of my dreams have not come true yet.  I won't bore you with those because if you have read any of my other blogs, you know those dreams circulate around a relationship and music. 

It's not that nothing has happened, its  just that not enough has happened (in my mind).

On the surface, it seems as if my desires are near impossible.

On the surface, it feels sometimes as if God doesn't see and doesn't care. 

Even Jesus, God's own Son, cried out on the cross, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?" Mark 15:34.

On the surface, God wasn't anywhere to be found. 

On the surface, the Disciple's faith seemed to be lost.  

And then three days later….

"He has risen." Mark 16:6

As I go into Easter weekend, I remember to not be fooled by appearances. 

I remember to not be swayed by how things may seem to be. 

God's silence doesn't reflect His absence. 

It may take 3 days, 3000 hours, or 30 years. 

In fact, it may take us getting to Heaven before we understand.

Regardless of how long it takes, we are called to believe in the behind the scenes. 

Because behind the scenes, God is working. 

Because behind the scenes, God is up to something. 

Because behind the scenes, God is still God.