I look different.
Six months away from the states. Living in different countries. Eating whatever is put in front of me. Shaving my head and dealing with those awkward growth phases that follow. A facial is a cold baby wipe and a pedicure is clipping my toe nails in my tent with a head lamp. When “getting cute” means donning the one dress I have, putting product in my hair, and wearing mascara. The same clothes on rotation, and the limited option of three pairs of shoes. Clothes and shoes are kind of “my thing” at home, so that might be the hardest part.
There’s an Instagram account that all of us World Racers find hilarious called @worldracetbh. Basically it’s just a way to make light of our peculiar life, one of those “laugh so you don’t cry” things. There are posts called “Before and After,” and they will take old photos of racers before the Race, looking really nice and like normal humans, and pair it with a photo of the person during the Race. The difference is always striking and drastic because of how simple and undignified our lives become on the field. It got me to thinking what my “Before and After” would look like, so the other day I was looking through old pictures from home.
I came across a selfie I’d taken to send to my best friend of a new haircut around this time last year. Not to toot my own horn, but I looked good! The sad part is at that time in my life, I didn’t believe I was beautiful. As I studied my cute tousled hair, nicely made-up face, and cool outfit (that I really miss), I had to remind myself that I was looking at a photo of myself and not a stranger. Even though I looked great last year at home, when I looked into my eyes, I shuddered at what I remembered from that time in my life.
Insecurities piled up. Hurt festering in my heart. Doubts and lies implanted in my mind that I was feeding by believing them.
As I gazed at the girl in the photo, I suddenly became content with this crazy journey of identity that I am on currently. I love my crazy hair; it represents the leap of faith and step of obedience I took when God told me to shave my head for Him in Haiti. I like my face without makeup because I don’t need it for people to tell me I’m beautiful. I’m grateful for the small amount of clothes and shoes I have in my pack because I’ve quickly learned how He provides for my every need. And as my dad used to remind me, “It’s not a fashion show!”
Not only are there physical differences in me, but spiritual changes as well. I’ve fine-tuned the ear of my spirit to the voice of my Father, and He clearly speaks to me. I am confident that I am His daughter and believe in His words so much so that I share them with those around me to build them up. He has told me who I am so I am no longer stubbornly listening to and believing lies about myself.
In Dominican Republic, I sat with Jesus as He spoke truth over me and I knew it was Him speaking to me (because I certainly didn’t believe nice things about myself). In Haiti, I reclaimed my freedom in Jesus Christ. On Jaco Beach, Costa Rica, I made an altar and gave Him my hurt, shame, and bitterness. In Panama, He restored my soul through an overdose of His Word. In South Africa, He surrounded me with amazing community and I dared to dive deeper than ever before.
Now, as I find myself surrounded by His glorious creation in cold but gorgeous Lesotho, He is stripping me of all ideas I had for my life and teaching me to actually believe for the things He has told me will be mine.
So it is true, I look incredibly different. My hair is never perfect and most days it is doing something wild. I have under-eye circles, more visible freckles, and a little sunburn on my nose from going au natural. Sometimes I wear Crocs with socks (this year only, pinky promise).
But look into my eyes and see how bright and lively they are. Notice this new smile on my face that is not forced. I’m complete in my creator. Wholly His. I look different; I look more like Christ, and to me, that means I’m the most beautiful I’ve ever been.
