Beauty. What is it? Do I have it? Do I have enough of it? What can I do to get more of it?
These are not typically questions that riddle my mind. I am pretty confident in the way that God created me, and I do not typically struggle a whole lot with comparison or insecurity. I like who I am, and I feel incredibly blessed by the life that God blessed me with. But being on an all girls team and especially living in a house with 25 women has made me realize that these questions are asked quite frequently by most of us.
In Western society, there are a lot of ideas and pressures for women to look a certain way. We all know it. How could you miss it? It's EVERYWHERE. Models and actresses are airbrushed to perfection, setting unrealistic expectations for everyone else. Magazine covers scream the latest trends in dieting, fashion, and beauty tips. Billions of dollars and just as many hours are spent trying to become the "ideal" — the American idea of beautiful.
But even in a wordly sense, beauty is relative. It really is in the eye of the beholder. What is beautiful in Hollywood is seen as sick and unhealthy in the middle of Africa. The idea of beauty in Western culture is completely different than the idea of beauty in Pakistan or China or Mozambique. And we all know that even within those cultures, beauty is relative. What is beautiful to me might not be so beautiful to my mom or my neighbor or my best friend. So why do so many women believe the lie of the enemy that says we are never beautiful enough? That what makes us beautiful is being skinny, having long legs, toned arms, and that perfect, button-shaped nose?
It goes way deeper than that.
My feet are beautiful because I can play football with Mozambican boys, take long walks with friends, and run into the arms of loved ones.
My legs are beautiful because they are strong enough to allow me to dance the afternoon away with Ugandan children coming to get their healthiest meal of the week.
My hips are beautiful because they will one day (Lord willing) bring forth new life. (And a lot of it, haha.)
My hands are beautiful because they are dirty from holding hands with filthy children in the slums.
My arms are beautiful because they are strong enough to hold babies, to carry groceries for my grandparents, to hoist children onto my shoulders, and to pick up and hold a ten year old boy with autism who gleefully jumps into them.
My mouth is beautiful because I use it to proclaim the victory that is in Jesus, to kiss away tears on a child in the Dominican who fell and scraped their knee, and to impart a piece of my joy unto others through a smile.
My eyes are beautiful because through them, I am able to see. I can see the breathtaking creation surrounding me, the child that needs to be held, the vastness of the ocean, the heart that needs comforting, and if I'm truly looking, I can see Jesus in the eyes of everyone that I meet.
THOSE are the things that make me beautiful.
[this blog was inspired by my wonderful and beautiful teammate, Hannah Carden, and some of the incredible wisdom and insight that she imparted the other day in a conversation.]
