Beauty

My family (12 of us - seven adults, 1 teenager, 1 jet lagged kid, 1 jet lagged preschooler, a toddler and a newborn!) had an extended family photo shoot while we were visiting last weekend. As I was scrolling through the pictures and thinking about how beautiful every member of my family was in their own way, I came across this picture. I glanced at it for half a second and kept scrolling, because my immediate reaction towards it was disgust. I hated the way I looked and I knew if I continued to look at it it that I’d feel worse and worse about myself, and why subject myself to that?

Aaron Rosa Photography

A few days later I was going through the pictures again, and of course, I knew this one was coming. I fought my desire to keep scrolling when it came up and I really examined it. And I started to see something different than I originally saw.

I saw a woman full of unadulterated joy. I saw a genuine, belly laugh. I saw a well earned gray hair (or four) popping out of a curly haired head. I saw hands that look older than I feel, hands that have held, cooked, and prayed for others. I saw earrings that were a maid of honor gift that remind me of a deep, true love that I get the privilege of witnessing. I saw a sister, who has grown in confidence and spirit and humor. I saw a Dad, who on the way to the park said something that hurt my feelings and offered a genuine and heartfelt apology afterwards. I saw smiles on the faces of people I love. I saw the sun’s end of day light, and the green of the trees.

On one of my last days in Maryland, I shushed a family member who was referring to themselves as fat. They asked why and I told them that every day of our trip, one person had commented on disliking something about their looks or needing to lose weight in front of my kids. I was annoyed. My children are beautiful and I knew hearing loved ones say this about themselves would start the inner questioning of their own self worth and beauty, and can we just put that off for as long as possible...please?! I had a conversation with another family member about how much worse the societal pressure is to “look good” in Maryland than in Alaska, and I was priding myself on my ability to only speak kindly about appearances (including my own) in front of my children. I was grateful for my ability to raise my children somewhere that the pressure to look a certain way is *slightly* less than other areas of our country. 

I was putting band aids on very deep wounds, is what I was doing. 

The piece I was missing, a huge piece, is that how we talk to ourselves matters, too. I may have figured out that I don’t want my kids to wonder if they’re beautiful or too fat or too thin but I hadn’t made the connection yet that I don’t deserve that negative self-talk, either. My heart breaks at the very idea of my children questioning their beauty, and I imagine God’s heart breaks for us, too.

Our society has taught us that we need to look a certain way in order to be considered beautiful, but I believe in a beautiful Creator who made all of us - every, single one - in Their image. I don’t believe that image is a 5’9” blonde woman anymore than I believe it’s a large bearded man in the sky, or a curvaceous black woman or a thin Jamaican man. I believe the beauty we were created in the image of is joy, and faith, and unequivocal Love. 

And so, when I look at that picture now, that is what I choose to see - forgiveness and redemption, joy and faith and love. And that, my friends, is so very beautiful.