Flawless Potential
As I wrote earlier, this weekend I had a little session with a photographer. It was a birthday gift from Micah--an incredibly wonderful, thoughtful, intimidating gift. I spent weeks beforehand trying to eat right, doing facials, daydreaming (and often praying!) for photoshop to somehow work its magic and make me look flawless. I love myself. I really do. But sometimes I struggle to like myself. When I look in the mirror, it's hard to look past the imperfections. I usually see the potential--all the ways I could be more beautiful someday, if only. The if only is always followed by a long list: if only my hair would do exactly what I wanted it to; if only I could shed those extra pounds and inches, especially around my hips (those darned kids!); if only those wrinkles weren't quite so visible; if only that rashy skin that appeared when I was sick would finally go away... It's possible there are no two more damaging words in the English language than if only.
Maybe it's indicative of vanity, but I've spent a lot of time thinking about this. Both about the pictures and about my list. I want to love what I see in these prints. I want to be blown away by how stunning the photographer has made me look. I want, in essence, not to look like myself. It was when I landed on that realization that I recognized maybe there was a problem in my thinking.
I've wanted these pictures to capture who I am, so my kids could look back on them (as I have on pictures of my grandmothers and mother) and really see me at this age. Let's be honest: if I'm flawless on film, they won't see anything that resembles the mom they've seen every day. I'm not flawless. Far from it!
But then, I don't know that my kids have ever noticed. When they look at me, they don't see the things I would change. They see their mother. And from what they've told me, they think I'm the most beautiful creature that's ever walked the earth. They're not alone. When I think back to my own mom, I couldn't tell you about a single blemish, imperfection, or flaw. What I remember of my mom as a child is her gentle spirit, her kind voice, her warm hugs, her beautiful red hair, her kind eyes, her easy smile. In my mind, a golden light falls on her and the edges of the frame are blurred by soft focus. I remember her as being somehow beyond perfect. I think most kids do.
Our kids have more grace for us than we do for ourselves.
What frustrates me sometimes is that I can see the potential in myself, but it takes so long to reach it. When I look in the mirror, I find myself looking past who I am now, straining to see who I hope to be. Some of that is good, of course. We all need goals to motivate us. But in focusing so much on some future me, I think I often miss who I am now.
Maybe I should again take my cues from my kids. We've tried hard to savor them at each stage of their lives. Of course we've always known they have growth potential--no one stays two or three forever (thank goodness!). We've always known they would outgrow whatever stage they were in, but that's exactly why we tried to stop and really enjoy them in each stage. Somehow we found a way to balance the hope of potential, the surety of growth, with the imperfections and realities of the moment.
I'm no toddler or preteen, but I have plenty of growth potential. And yet, there's plenty to love as I am today. I'm on my way to being a different person, but that doesn't devalue the person I am right here, right now. What would it be like to savor where I am, to love me--imperfect and in progress--at every stage along the way? What would it be like to embrace all of my flaws, to quiet the if onlys, and to recognize the absolute beauty and triumph of my current reality?
Maybe there'd be less photoshopping. Maybe there'd be less posturing, excuse-making, and disguising. And probably there'd be a lot more joy and freedom.
Maybe it's indicative of vanity, but I've spent a lot of time thinking about this. Both about the pictures and about my list. I want to love what I see in these prints. I want to be blown away by how stunning the photographer has made me look. I want, in essence, not to look like myself. It was when I landed on that realization that I recognized maybe there was a problem in my thinking.
I've wanted these pictures to capture who I am, so my kids could look back on them (as I have on pictures of my grandmothers and mother) and really see me at this age. Let's be honest: if I'm flawless on film, they won't see anything that resembles the mom they've seen every day. I'm not flawless. Far from it!
But then, I don't know that my kids have ever noticed. When they look at me, they don't see the things I would change. They see their mother. And from what they've told me, they think I'm the most beautiful creature that's ever walked the earth. They're not alone. When I think back to my own mom, I couldn't tell you about a single blemish, imperfection, or flaw. What I remember of my mom as a child is her gentle spirit, her kind voice, her warm hugs, her beautiful red hair, her kind eyes, her easy smile. In my mind, a golden light falls on her and the edges of the frame are blurred by soft focus. I remember her as being somehow beyond perfect. I think most kids do.
Our kids have more grace for us than we do for ourselves.
What frustrates me sometimes is that I can see the potential in myself, but it takes so long to reach it. When I look in the mirror, I find myself looking past who I am now, straining to see who I hope to be. Some of that is good, of course. We all need goals to motivate us. But in focusing so much on some future me, I think I often miss who I am now.
Maybe I should again take my cues from my kids. We've tried hard to savor them at each stage of their lives. Of course we've always known they have growth potential--no one stays two or three forever (thank goodness!). We've always known they would outgrow whatever stage they were in, but that's exactly why we tried to stop and really enjoy them in each stage. Somehow we found a way to balance the hope of potential, the surety of growth, with the imperfections and realities of the moment.
I'm no toddler or preteen, but I have plenty of growth potential. And yet, there's plenty to love as I am today. I'm on my way to being a different person, but that doesn't devalue the person I am right here, right now. What would it be like to savor where I am, to love me--imperfect and in progress--at every stage along the way? What would it be like to embrace all of my flaws, to quiet the if onlys, and to recognize the absolute beauty and triumph of my current reality?
Maybe there'd be less photoshopping. Maybe there'd be less posturing, excuse-making, and disguising. And probably there'd be a lot more joy and freedom.
