Beautiful Scars

A big chunk of our family time happens on-the-go, running errands in our sage green mini-van.  

It was the week before Thanksgiving and we had several destinations to check off that afternoon.  

We had reached the point in the day when sweet treats beckon, but dinner seems far off. The bickering from the older kids in the back seat was noticeably absent. On a whim, we pulled into the drive-thru and ordered two kid sized hot chocolates and a juice box.  Cheers and laughter erupted from the back seat.  Sweets! With Whipped Cream! Happy day!  John and Laurie Wilks: Parents of the Year!

We waited, as patiently as possible.  Soon enough, an awkward teenager handed us our steamy liquid goodness.  We thanked her and I passed them back to the worlds happiest 8 and 4 year-old kids.  They were so grateful, it melted my heart.  I hollered a warning that their drinks were hot; and glance back at their smiling faces as John pulled back on to the highway.

I wish I could have frozen this moment and savored it.

Suddenly, I heard an ear piercing, terrified scream from my 4 yr old daughter.  She just kept screaming, and crying.  Traffic prevented us from turning around or pulling over.

She couldn't manage words over the primal screams of pain.  In a matter of seconds we'd gone from mini-van bliss to utter chaos.

(Please read the rest of the story that I wrote as a guest post on leannepenny.com.  Through the magic of twitter I found Leanne's amazing testimony of choosing faith over fears and joy over despair.  May we journey together and let God redeem our painful moments. ) 

All I need...

 On a recent trip to Walmart, I walked the aisles in a stunned, bewildered trance. Actually, this has happened before. This time though, it wasn't from pregnancy or post-par-tum exhaustion. I could not blame the haze of seminary finals. The shoppers remained relatively tame (even the ones riding in my cart), so I can't even say I suffered there either. No, this time, as I walked through the crowded shelves, looking for Roll-backs on necessary items, I began to make a mental list of all the things that promised to make me better...  Lots of products claim to make me better, or more than my everyday self.

Diapers and wipes that would make me a gentler mom.

Cleaners that would make me a better housekeeper.

Shampoo that promise to volumize my hair. (Volumize? What does that mean, exactly... Can your hair go up to 11?)

Food that would make me more energized.

Lotions that would make me more youthful.

Everywhere I looked things assured me that I needed them to make me more.... skinny, strong, beautiful, fun, alert, smart, resourceful... Fill in the blank. Everyday, we are bombarded with the question, “Are we ____________ enough to face this life?”

In fact, Time magazine, garnered a firestorm of controversy when it cut straight to the chase and came out with the cover story, “Are you mom ENOUGH?” Add some provocative photos just for good measure; sit back and watch the arguments unfold. The question hits a nerve because it's one we all wrestle with. Mom...dad...man... woman...professional, whatever... We all wonder are we ENOUGH?

The questions we wonder about in Walmart don't disappear within the walls of the church.

Back my college days, I ran with a group of ladies known as the WOW group. We, the Women of the Word, met oh-so-very-often for Bible Study, accountability, prayer, and service. That “Proverbs 31 Women” was our ideal, and in some sense, our goal. I remember thinking loudly, but only to myself, in that place of deep insecurity that I swore never to admit to another human soul: “I do not think I will ever live up to all that.” That picture of the ever elusive Woman of valor, and charity and ultimate virtue became a tool that mocked and taunted me. Even the scriptures that I cherish seemed to whisper “not enough”.

Is there a spiritual wonder supplement I can take for that; maybe something meant to maximize my spiritual potential? Oh, how I wanted, and needed, to be ENOUGH to pursue the things God was placing in my heart those days, and even today. I am not. Yes, you read that right. I am not enough.

When bad news hits like a freight train derailed at top speed, I am not enough. When depression sits around my heart like a stubborn thick fog, I am not enough. When the children are behaving like crazed maniacs and the hope of true adult conversation around a meal that does not involve frozen fish sticks looms to distant to be considered a reality, I am not enough. When things are going really well, and the house is full of laughter and praises, I am still not enough. Weather or not anyone sees everything that I do, I am not enough. When things are going as perfectly as they can this side of heaven, I am not enough. And when life is hard, no matter how much I try, I am not enough.

Because it is His grace that is sufficient. It is His grace that is enough. His power is made perfect in my weakness. The power of the One who created the universe is made perfect when I can say to Him: “I will never be enough without You. I cannot and will not do this without You. I am created to need You. You are my portion and You are ENOUGH.”

That is a foreign cry in this Do-it-Yourself loving, self-improvement soaked, John Wayne echoing American culture. All we want is a plan, and the fortitude to pull ourselves up. We want to use that sharpie check everything off the list. Neat. Clean. Tidy. Self-Reliant. And a little more empty than we would like to admit.

I have revisited that Proverbs 31 woman that we studied for so long years ago. Her reflection has changed a bit over the years. She still stands, as inspiring veracious as ever before. But I no longer read her tribute as a check-list. Instead, I hear it as intended: a poem or a song celebrating what God can do for those who set every aspect of their life and heart before His Light. Eschet Chayil (the Woman of Valor) didn't get there on her own. She got there being brave enough to utter that dissonant cry of relationship, and reliance of God.

See, there is another character in the Biblical story to who gets the Eschet Chayil title. We see it again in Ruth. Ruth, however, exemplifies the polar opposite of the life we see in Proverbs. All the details are different. Ruth is a childless widow, dirt poor, and from the “wrong kind” of family. Yet she shares the title with the woman who is an uber- sucessful domestic homemaker/businesswomen who has every duck in a row, every t crossed, and everything all together.

Proverbs 31:25 says she could “laugh at the days to come” (love that...) She does not laugh because she trusts in story book endings, even if she got them. She does not laugh because she has it all together. She laughs because she knows the Lord has never failed anyone's cry of desperate reliance. She laughs because she knows the Lord is always enough.  

Noses...

See how my nose is crinkled when I smile?  I have always hated that.  I as a tortured teenage soul, I would spend long moments in front of a mirror, attempting to smile without the crinkle.  I can do it now...sometimes. My nose has always stuck out (bad pun intended) as a source of vain irritation for me.

I remember conversations with well meaning loved ones who espoused  the merits of my Berling family beak.  Some of them even share it. (Disclaimer:  let the record show that my beef has been with the smeller on my face.  Yours looks perfectly proportional upon yours. Irrational, but true. )

Every girl has things they wish were different about themselves, and their bodies. We seem to be wired to compare ourselves to others we see.  I spent a few minutes on Pinterest the  other day and was struck my how many of the comments sounded like a hollow echo chamber of "if only"

"If only, I were that skinny..." "Wish, I had the thighs to pull that off..." "Wish I could have her hair..."  "Look at those nails!"  "I would wear those if only I had her ankles."

We are not always concerned with what's in the mirror.  But it does come up quite often.   Cate Blanchett made all kinds of news for putting her "real face" on the cover of Intelligent Life magazine.  This implies that  not  using computer editing to alter an image to make it more appealing happens so rarely it constitutes actual  newsworthiness.  In America,  public schools offer photo editing for school pictures.  Do little Sally's freckles really need to be erased from her kindergarten mug?   Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of my pictures,  (most notably from the totally awkward teen years) I may have  loved to have had the luxury changing. But what are we saying if we think every image needs to be edited to me complete?   In this age of readily available photo shop and airbrushing, the temptation (especially  for women) to compare ourselves to an unattainable standard looms ever present.  Computer generated "perfection" has slithered its way  into our everyday reality and lied to us.  We've bought the lie and so often now strive to look like an allusion.

Even if we take computers and Photoshop out of the equation, there are other slithering snakes that will bring the temptation of  "if only" and all that comes with it back into play.  Make-up.  Diets. Hair dye.  Did you know that the women who invented Spanx is the world's youngest self made billionare?

I am not saying we should all crawl out of bed and never give a second thought to what others will see.  I realize that there is a fun side to sparkles, and make-up and things that make us feel pretty.   Enjoy that.  Play around with the photo editing, too.  Just realize you were beautiful before any of that, and you will be gorgeous long after it's all gone.

Reading my friend Becca's Photography stuff the other day I was struck by something she said:  "Beauty is found in the genuine."  So simple.  So true. (Plus she takes great pics!) True beauty cannot be created by any combination of allusions or mirrors.  True beauty is a refection of the Creator wherever and whenever it's found. The Father of lights leaves little bits of amazing everywhere we look.. .There is genuine beauty in the grace of His creativity resting in us.

I don't want my girls thinking they have to strive to be something different to feel beautiful.  I don't want them tethered to illusions.  I don't want them toiling at the Sysiphus-like chore of trying meet unrealistic expectations.  I do not want them buying the lie.  I want them to know they are beautiful just the way they are, because of the One in whom all beauty originates.

I caught them both laughing so hard  they were rolling on the floor tonight.  Mia had nothing but a diaper on, Cowboy Macaroni was crusted on the corner of her mouth.  Abi had four colors of paint in her hair and four (yes four) different socks on.  Their noses crinkled a little when they looked up at me.  And I sighed, because it was, in a word: BEAUTIFUL.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

    my soul knows it very well.

¹⁵ 

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

¹⁶ 

Psalm 139: 14-15