Have you ever written a love-letter to yourself? Would you even know where to start?
I think I may start in the mirror. Somehow, catching my eyes looking back at me, maybe words would form. Maybe I would say, “hey, look, your hair ain’t so frizzy today. And look, that pimple is gone! Woah, definitely love that about myself today. Oh, and wait, even better, the indulgence of sweets last night that left me with three food-babies has magically disappeared!” As harsh as these words may taste, if I am being honest, these thoughts aren’t too far-fetched from the ones that wiggle their way into my brain.
Why is it though that I feel the need to start a love-letter to myself in the mirror, where only the outsides of me are seen? The outsides that I do not even see as I move throughout the day?
What if I chose instead to close my eyes and gaze elsewhere? Look at the heart, hold it close. Even then, though, what do I do when I remember the anger I have towards them for how they ignored me, the way in which I cast my eyes downward to ignore a problem and continue on, the consuming pressure to preform and plan and reach some measure of unattainable perfection? When I look inward, past the mirror, still I find more to get caught up on. More to make me question how to write a love letter to myself.
And that’s when I turn to the love I have experienced like no other. To words that refresh my bones. Verses like this one:
She is clothed in strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.
And my heart begins to melt as I remember that though I am imperfect, though flaws blemish my skin, I am mighty. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I hear it whispered to me, asking me to believe the unique beauty in which I was woven together with. And it’s not easy, but day by day I am learning to throw out my wardrobe of insecurity, of not loving myself with reckless abandonment. I am learning to cloth myself with fresh styles—ones that resemble the beautiful Creator of this miracle we call life.
I choose to bathe myself in the truths of my Father. I choose to remind myself of the beauty that comes from a place of stillness, of knowing deep inside the core of my being that tomorrow will come, be as it is, and knowing that nothing can conquer the love stewing inside my veins. That's where my love letter begins.
And so, I ask you: How often do you tell yourself “you’re beautiful?" Have you ever looked in the mirror and said these words, aloud for your breath to taste and ears to soothingly take in? Paused, looked at your reflection not for flaws. Paused, gazed in your eyes as you would the boy you have a crush on, and smiled? Really, truly, smiled. I pray that you do. I pray that is what your love letter to yourself would say.
