Gratitude Friday…

Wednesday night, I came home after a longer than would have liked day, snuggled up in bed with a bag of cheese puffs and settled in to watch Oprah. I’m not a big Oprah fan. Certainly not a member of the Church of Oprah. But the woman has some pretty interesting topics on her show and occasionally, I DVR one.

This episode had Jessica Simpson. Also not a big fan of her. But I wanted to hear what she had to say about the whole “mom jeans” drama. I’ll admit it. I bought the US Weekly magazine with her picture in those awful jeans plastered on the cover. After hearing her talk about how difficult that situation was, I am ashamed I participated by buying the magazine. The poor girl almost broke out in hives just reliving the attacks on her strictly for what someone taking a photo perceived as being “fat”.

And those “mom jeans” she was wearing? A size 4. 4 people. Otherwise known as tiny and like the opposite of “fat”.

So there I am. Cheese puffs. Swollen feet. Huge belly. Pretty content.

Forty-five minutes later, I am crying and asking for forgiveness.

Some thoughts have been milling around in my head for months now and for some reason, a talk show about beauty brought it all together for me. This may get a little long and I pray the Lord will give me the right words to convey the truths He’s shown me.

I am a woman living in a pretty self-centered culture. A culture that values stuff and beauty. And has a very defined version of that beauty. And the stuff too.

The stuff part doesn’t really get to me. All in all, I’m a pretty practical girl. Money and things are all either a blessing or a curse depending on your heart. Chris and I tend to believe all we have is a gift from God so we’re grateful and humbled by how He takes care of us.

The beauty thing is another story.

I’m just your average girl. Not a stunning beauty. Got plenty of “flaws” that despite hours of working out never got corrected. Over the years, I’ve spent ridiculous amounts of time and energy criticizing my body.

Then along came Baby E. My daughter.

I have not a single clue what she will look like. I suspect she will look like an Evans’ more than a Jones’. I would think she might be blonde and have blue eyes. She might be tall like her parents or she might be itty bitty like her Meme.

But regardless, this little girl will be beautiful. And it won’t have a thing to do with how she looks. She’s part me and part Chris. And all miracle.

Then came a little “Aha” moment when I realized that’s probably exactly the way my parents feel about me and my brother. We’re a part of them. Where I may see “needs work” they see only the daughter they’ve loved for 33 years.

I started thinking about how it might feel to hear little E one day looking in the mirror complaining about…say… her nose. My nose. The one she got from me and I got from my dad. Do I care that her criticism of her nose is also a criticism of mine? Nope. Do I care that she for one second thinks of herself as anything less than perfect? Yep.

So now comes the big Aha moment. How much more does God care? He created us in His own image. Breathed life into us. Knit us together in our mother’s womb. Made each of us to serve a special purpose in His plan.

How does He feel when I look in the mirror and complain about my body? Does His heart break like mine does even just thinking about E someday doing that?

Of course.

Because He loves us more than we can ever imagine. All of us. All the parts of us. Even the things we may see as “flaws”. They’re not flaws at all. They’re the pieces of our bodies that make us unique.

What a disappointment I must be to Him. How selfish and misguided and just plain wrong I have been to waste any time and energy trying to "correct" something God gave me and was never "wrong" in the first place.

Thanks to this little miracle life growing in me, I have a new appreciation for true beauty. And it has nothing to do with the size of my jeans. Breaking the criticism habit will be hard. I’ve been doing it a long time. But because of my daughter, the Lord has shown me how much more I need to appreciate the works of His hands and that includes this body. As Fanny would say, He didn’t make a mistake. He doesn’t need a do-over. And there is absolutely nothing about me that He didn’t orchestrate.

Thank you Lord for the miracle gift of this little girl. Thank you for teaching me more about Your love for me through my love for her. Thank you for reminding me that we, our bodies, minds and souls, are all part of Your creation and for that You deserve my praise.