Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall….
This morning I sort of woke up, ate a bowl of cereal, sliced up some bananas, changed a diaper, brushed my teeth, yawned, opened my eyes the rest of the way, and popped my contacts in. I paused in front of the bathroom mirror and disgustingly proclaimed, “I AM SO UNCOOL!” For a few moments I stared at myself and daydreamed about what it would be like if I WAS cool. Would my morning be spent surfing the waves of a California beach, with my sculpted golden tan body, and my wet sun-bleached hair wrapped around my shoulders? Or, {insert your mental snapshot of total coolness here}.
Whatever our idea of cool is, why do we strive so hard for it? Peering at my reflection, I had almost completely blocked out my 5 year old’s complaint that he now hates bananas and the sound of the baby’s plateful hitting the floor. I was too caught up in choosing which parts I would get plastic surgery on if a generous millionaire decided to foot the bill. While I was deciphering which God given trait I was going to have rearranged first, I started seeing dots and stars! No, I wasn’t passing out. I was just being reminded of my importance and significance on this place called earth. I began thinking back on a children’s book entitled, You are Special, by Max Lucado. It’s a story about a village of wooden puppets known as Wemmicks that carry around a box of stickers everywhere they go. All day, they stick grey dots and gold stars to each other. The gold stars are for those that have nice puppet features, dance well, or sing great. The Wemmicks with blemishes, those that trip and fall often, or have squeaky voices get grey dots. Some Wemmicks are covered in gold stars, some littered with grey dots, and some with a little of each. One day, a Wemmick heavy with grey dots, named Punchinello meets Lucia, a smooth skinned Wemmick with neither dots nor stars. He inquires where all of her stickers have gone. She explains that she visits the master woodcarver, Eli, every day. After much internal unrest and curiosity, Punchinello makes the trek up the grassy hill to Eli’s workshop. Punchinello asks him, in a timid voice barely louder than a whisper, the question of a sticker-less body. Eli places Punchinello on his lap and lovingly reveals that if he only cares what his maker believes about him and not what any other Wemmick thinks of him, the stickers just will not stick.
I’ve received both gold stars and grey dots in my days. Some from family members, friends, and strangers. Some from teachers, coaches, and church leaders. But mostly from myself. I’ve also kept a rather large box to distribute from. Sometimes, like today, it is something as simple as a children’s book that sends me on a quest for the greatest freedom; to not care what any earthly person thinks I am or am not, but to to be what my Maker has carved and chiseled me to be.
I never make it past waist-deep in the ocean before I frantically wade back closer to shore.
My hair is almost black and will never boast a natural blonde highlight.
When I’m in the sun, I slather on 50+ SPF like its a religious practice, exactly every 2 hours.
And, the only sculpted part of my body is my kneecaps.
I’m starting to be o.k. with this. Admiring my gold stars and dwelling on my grey dots will never produce a reflection of His image, only an image of myself.
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