Beauty and Self-Worth: Part 1

I attended Faith Tabernacle's National Missionettes Sleepover, March 28-29, and I realized something rather important about all of the girls (K-12th graders):
Beauty is a struggle from full-grown, wise women to even the smallest of girls.

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered who it was staring back at you?  Where did they come from and why couldn't they be prettier, skinnier, smarter, better?  I have.  I wonder all the time about what I can do to make myself more socially acceptable and all I end up doing is causing myself a lot of heartache and stress.

But, something a friend of mine said that weekend got me thinking...
God spent a lot of time making us in His image.  He worried over what talents He would give us; He obsessed over the color of our hair; He fussed over whether to give us blue, green, or hazel eyes; He spent time determining just how we would look and what our styles would be - He loved each of us so much that He dedicated so much thought, time and effort into perfecting us to be in His image, not the world's.

Yet instead of worrying about what God thinks of us, we worry about what the world thinks.

Some of us worry so much about our body's shape and size that we make ourselves sick because we've become consumed with being an "appropriate size."  Anorexia and Bulimia have been the culprit of the downfall, and death, of so many beautiful young ladies.  It is not only harmful and destructive of the girl but it can tear apart families and friends and destroy everything good in their life.  An old friend of mine (we were best friends for nearly 15 years) had Bulimia.  She kept it a secret for a long time and I didn't know what to do when I found out.  But, I learned to just be there for her without condemnation or judgement and you know what?  She recovered eventually.  It's still a struggle for her sometimes, but she now has a husband and a daughter to help her through.
For those of you reading this who may struggle with either of these diseases, you're not alone and there are plenty of people willing and ready to help you.  All you need to do is ask.  :)

There are other girls still who hurt from the words thrown at them about how they're not good enough, how they aren't beautiful or skinny, that they dress or act too weird, etc.  These are the ones who struggle with depression of many different levels, from mild to severe, however, there are other problems that can ensue from being depressed.
Cutting is just one of those problems, but it's something that nearly 30% of girls/women struggle with.  I am one of that 30%.

I began cutting in November 2008 and it's been a daily struggle for me since then.  Currently, I am almost 6 months clean from cutting and I plan to keep it that way.  I started to cut because my depression became too much for me to handle and I didn't feel like I could talk to my family about it.  The main reason I felt that was because 1) there were members of my family that were already depressed and needed looking after, 2) there were enough problems going on in the house and I didn't want to be another "problem-child," and 3) because I felt so overlooked by my parents.  I didn't want to burden anyone with my own issues.
But, because I kept all of that inside myself, my thoughts eventually ventured to the leading cause of death among teens and young adults, suicide.  I wrote poetry about it and stories and I thought of how I could rid the world of myself in the most gruesome ways.  Of course, I am still alive today, but the truth of why I never tried to commit suicide is because I was so afraid of what people would think and of what would happen if I'd failed.  I didn't want anyone to find me like that either.

Cutting leaves ugly scars and it certainly does nothing to help with a girls/woman's self-esteem, but fortunately, in my life, there's a man who thinks my scars are beautiful.  I don't believe him on that yet in the least, but I'm learning day-by-day that he loves me for who I am.  He loves me despite all of my scars and all of my flaws.

To any of the young women reading this: You are BEAUTIFUL.  No matter what your body shape or size, no matter what has happened to you in the past, no matter the amount of scars you have on your body; it matters not.  You are gorgeous in my eyes, in the eyes of some special man (or woman), and most importantly, you are a rare jewel of beauty in the eyes of God.  Never forget that.  There is always someone who's willing to talk to you and help you through whatever situation you're going through.  If no one else, I am more than happy to speak with you and help you.  :)

To any young men reading this: You can make a difference in the lives of the women around you.  You are defender's and protectors.  There should never be a time where you don't stand up for a woman and treat her like a Queen.  I challenge you to go to the women in your lives today and tell them how much you love and appreciate them and how special and beautiful they are.  I challenge you to make them feel safe and protected.  I give you this challenge not just for today, but for the rest of your lives.

Until our next encounter,
Lauren

The Voice of God

Standing in a sea of people

raising their voices

up to the sky, I hear

one voice

stand apart from them all.

I look around,

trying to find the face to

which the voice belongs.

I search everywhere,

but can only hear the whisper

high above the crowd.

The Seasons

Fall

Bronze leaves fall lifeless

Down upon the half-warmed earth

In colors of hope.

Winter

Crisp sheets tumble in

Spirals onto frozen greens

Clothed in silver dots.

Spring

Tiny shoots emerge –

Reds, blues, and others dance

To Sun’s bright melody.

Summer

Little droplets kiss

Dancing plants every morning –

With Sun’s heat they’re gone.

Drunken Headlights

A fire raged, tore through

her soul.

The blaze reduced

everything

                 to

                     a

                        s

                           h,

twilight ash that flew away

with every breath of wind.

His favorite swing underneath

the giant Oak

now moves unoccupied in

the evening breeze.

With the rise of the sun

comes the memory of that

black pick-up and its ever blinding

  

    head                        lights.

Her soul burned with rage at

the man driving that shiny F-150,

but when her four-year old

slipped away at 8:53pm,

her heart died…

And that burning blaze reduced

everything

                 to

                     a

                        s

                           h.

Consolations After Being Disowned by My Father

I have pictures beside my bed and on the walls
that believe the skies breathe with the dawn.
They know nothing of what a mind is meant to see.

For them, an Arctic's wave in December
is a father figure at best.

Through the alcoholic whispers and
faulty parental attempts,
I discover that I don't need
his constant criticizing rage or
the barrels of venomous words
he pukes from morn till night.

A weeping tiger sighs beside me
like a silent, falling rain.

And I can smell the flowers bloom
noiselessly from the windows in this room I love.

Why Can't I....?

Tonight everyone is gone.

Tonight I am alone.

Tonight all those I leaned upon are no more.

They are not allowed to be as they once were.

He's forcing me to listen.

He's trying to tear away my protection.

He's trying to destroy my walls.

My mind is consumed with His voice and
I am overwhelmed by the words I hear.

He presses my hand to my paper to write
the words He whispers through my thoughts.

He wants to heal me, so why won't I just let Him?

I want my protection.

I want my walls.

I don't want to be hurt again.

I don't want to be vulnerable.

I don't want to be weak and defenseless.

I want to have one or two someone's
I can talk to and lean on in times of need.

I want to be that same someone for others.

He says I'm loved.

He says I'm beautiful.

He says I'm worth it all.

Even through death, so why can't I believe His truths?

He tells me that my "leaning posts" are gone.

He whispers that my protection has left.

He is still when I fight and scream.

He is near when the rest of humanity fails me.

He has not left me, so why am I so hesitant?

They are gone and they are not here, He says.

"I am here, my child, lean on me.

Let me be The One.

Let me love you.

Let me pull you up out of the chasm you've fallen into.

Come.  Take my hand, beauty."

He is gentle and kind and true.

He is unfailing and unconditional in His love.

He is a good Daddy, so why can't I trust His love for me?