When I was in 8th grade, I came down with chicken pox. Because I was older to have a case of chicken pox, the sickness hit me particularly hard. I had pox everywhere– especially all over my face. They were in my eyes, my nose, my mouth, etc. It was pretty disgusting, and I knew it. I would examine my face in the mirror and be sick at the sight before me. So, at one point I had to stop looking at myself because my fragile-8th- grade-girl-self couldn’t deal with the image in the mirror.
8th grade was a frightening year in many ways, aside from the chicken pox. I felt tender and vulnerable about myself, especially my body. Major waves of insecurity were welling up within me and I hardly knew how to put into words those insecurities.
So one evening of my battle with chicken pox I asked my mom a hard question. She had come up to my bedroom to say goodnight to me. I was feeling miserable and in that misery I asked her, “Mom, do you think I’m ugly?” I was certainly asking her about the current status of my face, but really I was trying to unearth something deeper about how I viewed myself. My mom’s response surprised me. She quickly asked me: “Sarah, do you think I’m ugly?”
I was startled by the reply, but knew immediately the only answer to her question. No, of course I didn’t think she was ugly. This was my mother– the beautiful woman who had been a daffodil princess when she was in high school. The one who many men tried to court. The one who people still commented upon her striking eyes and great smile. My mom was beautiful, not ugly. So I responded to her, “No, mom. Of course I don’t think you’re ugly.”
To which she replied with her own question: “Sarah, can’t you see you look just like me?”
I have often thought of that evening and the interaction that I had with my mother as Holy Spirit inspired, for many years later the story would rise up within me as a very powerful illustration of what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God. In all the myriad ways that I struggle to believe that I am beautiful, loved, and OK exactly as I am, I can reflect upon this conversation and envision myself hearing the same words from God.
“God, do you think I’m ugly? (or unworthy, or unlovable, or whatever it may be)
“Sarah, do you think I’m ugly?”
“Oh no, God! You’re the creator of an amazingly beautiful and complex universe! You are pure love, mercy, truth, and goodness. You are all that is beautiful!”
“Sarah, can’t you see you look just like me.”
Fast forward to present day. I have left the 8th-grade-girl-self behind and am now mother to my own child. And every day (actually several times a day) I marvel at how
amazingly beautiful I think my little boy is. Sometimes I can’t believe such a wondrous creation came forth from me. But the same lesson keeps hitting me– in a new a profound way. For many people have commented: “Micah looks just like you.” When will I accept the truth about myself? Thankfully, God keeps sending me reminders of this truth, and the best one yet has been the beautiful boy that I get to hold so closely each day and who serves to remind me of how much I am loved.
