(don’t ask me why I’m being led to write a blog post at one in the morning about my room cause idk man)
If you took one glance at my room a few days ago, you would’ve thought to yourself, “How is such a pretty girl such a slob?” (trust me, I’ve heard something similar before). Today if you took a glance in my room, you might see my *loving* (distant) cat, Stormy, sleeping in her little bed next to mine. Or you might be drawn to the things on my desk; books and papers, a tiny Christmas tree that never got properly put away. Maybe you notice my ever-growing hat collection or you scour my bookshelf to see if I have any good reads. Perhaps it’s my shoe collection laying out in front of the bookshelf. However, the thing I’ve noticed most people look at first is my walls. They seem simple, and are a plain off-white color (that never got a splash of color after we moved in), a little banged-up, and the paint is a little bumpy in some places from a poor paint-job. But what they’re really looking at are the things on my walls.
I have a growing collection of little things. On the first, I have drawings that I did when I was a freshman, and have since dropped the ball on sketching. On the second, I have a couple of posters, my license plate from my first car, a calendar, a Joker painting, and my Black Belt certificate. On the third I don’t have much, just two paintings from a dear friend of mine above the bookcase. On the last I have a lot more. Pictures and notes. A crooked cork-board that is miraculously still hanging on my wall. Necklaces and keychains, all meaningful in a different way. I have encouraging notes from friends, and pictures with family.
My most recent additions include a picture of me and my grandmama that was at a carnival or circus when I was probably about 7 or 8. I hung it up about two months ago from a visit to her now-vacant house. The other is a picture of just me at her house. I’m about five, standing in front of a tv with my hands on my hips, cute little girl shoes and a purple shirt.
The other thing about my room… Is the things that people don’t see. They don’t see the machete that is resting under my pillow. The threadbare blanket that I cling to every night to feel the love that my grammie stitched into it. The small Pooh Bear I don’t seem to sleep as well without. The birthday and Christmas cards hidden away that I go back to every once in awhile. The things hidden in my bookcase and in my books that no one knows about but me. The things I’ve written in my journal. All of it hidden away and the only reason you would notice them is if I showed you. Like the picture of me in the purple shirt when I was five. If you saw it at first you’d say “Aww you’re so little!” or “Oh you were so CUTE!”. I’d laugh it off and proceed to tell you how old I was when it was taken and maybe if I knew you well enough you’d hear this story;
I remember that day, or at least what we did before the picture so clearly. I shouldn’t in a psychological sense, but I do. I had wanted curly hair just like my grandmama. So my grandmama gave me a bath and when I got out and into my pj’s, she put curlers in my hair, saying how pretty I was going to look. That night we held the same routine every time I was there for a visit-we got up at about midnight and had a bowl of Coco Dyno-Bites. The next morning we got dressed, me still with curlers on my head, and ate breakfast. Afterwards she had me sit down in front of her while she took each one out as carefully as she could. When she finished, she took a barrette and tucked my hair on one side into it. I was so happy and proud that I had her curly hair. She took a picture of me with my little black button shoes and hands on my hips. I don’t remember what we did that day, but I remember that. That I was so proud to be just like her.
My point to this very long story, is that at the beginning, everything can seem so messy, so sloppy. But when you take a moment to clean it up, or if you give God a chance to, and you look closer, you might see something a little more worthwhile. Something that’s not worth giving up on yet. It’s hard to see what God sees sometimes. I looked at my room a week ago and thought “I’ll never get this place cleaned up.” But I did. And that’s what God does. He sees the potential in us and he starts wiping away the dirt and the grime and the mess to reveal what he’s seen all along. I know that God’s still working His magic on me, and I know He won’t stop until I shine like sun. He’s doing the same to you, right now. And you’ll see it someday soon if you haven’t already. You’ll see the beauty that He has made you.
Well that took a different turn than I was expecting. Probably than you were expecting too I bet. Goodnight y’all
