A little girl stands, 6 years old looking in the mirror while playing dress-up. She wears a fake tiara and a little too much poorly applied lipstick. She has the biggest dimples when she smiles and eyes as bright as the joy that’s in her heart. She runs to her dad when he comes home from work-he laughs and says “you’re beautiful and lovely don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She doesn’t need a mirror to believe his words.
Suddenly 6 years turns quickly into 12. Her smile that once stretched from East to West is now nothing more than a forced grin, with worry that fills those big blue eyes. She has thoughts that confuse and attack her and fill her with a paralyzing amount of fear for anything. She knows she’s a little different than her friends. Her dad tells her she’s going to be okay and that God tells us not to worry because he takes cares of us. It was the first time she began to doubt him.
12 years soon turns into 15. She changes her hairstyle and spends hours in front of the mirror wishing to feel comfortable in her own skin. Her best friends all have boyfriends now and she begins to question herself, why do boys notice her friends beauty and not her own? Her dad tells her she’s beautiful and guys aren’t worth it, she doesn’t believe him.
Years go by…heartbreaks and disappointments become a routine. She immerses herself in the depressed girl because she doesn’t believe life for her will ever include joy. She is afraid of herself and the monster that grew inside of her.
She has hope that things might get better when she moves away for college that people might notice her there. A few did, but none stayed. Which was infinitely more painful. Rejection began to trump invisibility and she didn't believe she was worth the happiness that her friends found. She knew God could fix her but doubted that he ever would. Her bright blue eyes seared red from crying, were extraordinarily tired and her smile was as much of a stranger as the person she once was.
What happened to those eyes that once shone bright with passion and joy? Where did they go when life happened and the world broke in? Are our eyes buried inside us? Deep within the lies and hurt we've built up over the years? I believe so. Our eyes are now saturated with suffering and wisdom and are all the more beautiful because of it.