The lighting
in an airplane bathroom is not kind.
Neither is motherhood. The
haggard reflection of an unshowered woman with vomit down the front of her
shirt, purple circles under her eyes, and a squirming two year old under her
arm stared back at me blankly from the mirror.
An hour
earlier I was feeling a little melodramatic rolling through the terminal after
an exhausting week of time change, sick kids, and long days full of activity
(aka “vacation”). Finally heading home,
my arms and elbows were full of bags and children as our family moved awkwardly
through the busy airport. I could not help but notice the business women, wearing
heels and packing light. Some of them sat
in cafes, alone, with a glass of wine and business at hand. “I used to be like
you once, business women.” I thought. “I
was beautiful and important. You would
simply cry if you knew how little separates you from this encumbered mess
walking by.”
I’m sure
some of those women were actually loving moms who had seen their own fair share
of late nights and yoga pants; but in that moment I felt jealous of their
solitude, beauty, and professionalism. I
finally got to my gate and squeezed my awkward mess of diaper bags and clinging
children through the narrow walking aisle of the plane. The flight was very
hard.
That’s when
I ended up face to face with the reflection of the worn woman in the mirror. That gross little airplane bathroom became
the place where this blessed, happy mom who adores her children and loves
playing with bubbles and sidewalk chalk was ready to give it all up. That blank
stare from the greasy girl who couldn’t even go pee by herself really got
me. People used to say I was
pretty.
I was
praying my way through that entire flight starting from my flashes of jealousy
and insecurity in the terminal.
Painfully, my feelings of being “unseen and unheard” felt amplified by
Gods silence over those hours. I
couldn’t kick the ache in my heart that I had become an unattractive,
unimportant woman.
We made it
home. Barely.
I finally got
a few precious moments to myself, so I took out my Bible
Study homework. 30 minutes later I
was on the floor, bawling my eyes out and laughing with God over His “silence”
and all of that vomit.
Here’s what
I learned that changed my life:
- I want to be beautiful because that’s how God made me.
- I am beautiful.
- Love (even when it looks like vomit) is beautiful.
- True Beauty is Messy.
I want to be beautiful because that’s how God made me.
I feel like
on the subject of beauty, inner beauty gets a lot of time (Proverbs 31:30, 1
Peter 3:3-4). I understand that those purple circles under my eyes are
“beautiful” in that abstract way of symbolizing the hours I was up rocking my
child the night before. I still hate
them. I still want a shower.
I’m so glad
that it isn’t shallow to want to be beautiful.
God created beauty, He created humans to appreciate physical and natural
beauty (SOS 4:1), and has destined me to one day be a beautiful bride in
heaven. Of course my heart longs for that.
The problems only start when I look for anyone other than God to affirm
my beauty.
I am beautiful.
Thankfully,
God affirms my beauty any chance I ask Him. He died to be with me, his love for
me is etched across the history of the universe. There is a prophetic story about a royal
wedding in the Psalms that points to the day when we will be the bride of our
King in Heaven. The stunning bride to be
and her entire wedding party enter the palace with joy and gladness. She has been told, “The king is enthralled by
your beauty; honor Him, for he is your Lord.” (Psalm 45:11).
Before this
day is over, you walk over to your bathroom mirror. Allow the reflections of any unscrubbed
showers or cluttered vanities to remain in the background. Look that woman staring back at you in the
eye. You tell her: “The King is
enthralled by your beauty; honor Him, for He is your Lord”.
Take time in
prayer to ask God if you are beautiful.
Allow all of the hurtful things people have said, negative images
swirling in your mind, or lies of being ugly and worthless to surface. Ask God to sweep them away like a cloud so
that you can find your most beautiful reflection in His eyes alone.
Love (even when it looks like vomit) is
beautiful.
One day we
get to be brides again. God has been
planning this wedding feast for ages and has every last detail perfected
(Revelation 19:6-8). Our dress is being
sewn together as I type, bright linen white and clean made possible by the
ultimate sacrifice of love (Isaiah 1:18).
The linen itself is “the righteous acts of the saints” (Revelation
19:8).
We won’t
contribute anything borrowed or blue to our heavenly gown, but when we choose
righteousness in the form of love we are weaving eternal threads into our own
beauty in heaven. When I hold my
(vomiting) child close because I choose to honor God in my motherhood, serve
without complaining, and love someone else more than myself that is not inner
beauty- it is eternal beauty.
True beauty is messy.
Jesus came
to “give us a crown of beauty instead of ashes” (Isaiah 61:3).
It isn’t
until we look at our heads (possibly in the mirror of an airplane bathroom) and
see the messy ashes of grieving our lost selves, youthful beauty, or sense of importance
that we can truly appreciate what it means for the Prince of Heaven to place a
crown on our heads and say “Marry me, my
darling. I am enthralled by your beauty.”
