Beautiful's easy-peasy when I want it to be, talking the talk about flowers and mountains and night sky and you, beautiful people you are.
Isn't that the way it goes?
It is easy for me to jump on a beauty soap box, but I am only also speaking to myself here, too, because for years I saw myself as < God sees me. I know this feeling, I know these thoughts.
God has redeemed this area but like anything else, He keeps doing a work in me. Think of it as those vitamins you need to clean out your system, or the good stuff you put in your body to cleanse the harshness we do to ourselves and the junk we often eat.
We need truth, spiritual nourishment, not just once when we consider the lies we've been living and the junk we've been feeding our minds about the standards of beauty the world places on us, but we need it all the time. We need nourishment and truth for our souls, because what we tell ourselves is often the core of how we see ourselves, and the result often becomes how we treasure the gifts God has given.
Name five or ten things that are beautiful. Go.
What comes to mind? Flowers, mountains, night sky, beauty we see in other people?
Somewhere beauty became another form of perfection. And a kind of extreme way of thinking, where it is everything or it is nothing. I can't eat this. I must be this size. I can't except this compliment.
Can we find some balance with beauty, can we learn to see as God sees us....
Instead of being Goldilocks with our bodies, with our beauty, with standards we place on perfection for our lives.
In the beloved fairy tale, Goldilocks wanders off and gets lost and this is what happens:
She prefers porridge that is neither too hot nor too cold. She wants it just so.
It doesn't end well: she eats baby bear's whole bowl of breakfast. Opps.
She prefers the chair that is neither too hard nor too soft.
It doesn't end well: she ends up breaking the chair.
She prefers a place to sleep that fits her perfectly and this doesn't end well: she's so comfortable she is still sleeping when the bears return.
Nothing is enough.
I have been Goldilocks. I am often still Goldilocks.
I am a wanderer. A perfector. A make-it-righter.
I came across a new song today. One lyric stuck out at me, screamed for me to listen:
"If I wander till I die may I know whose hand I'm in." -Peter Bradley Adams
The longer I run, may I just know Him whose hand I'm in...
Happy Saturday -- linking up with Lisa-Jo and others talking about Beautiful -- I always talk too long on this one.