I have a friend (who at some point will read this and know exactly who she is) who loves pink almost just as much as I do. We agree that it makes us feel pretty and that you should almost always have a bit of it on somewhere. Even if it isn't visible to everyone else, it makes us feel pretty. It does something to my brain I think and it alters my reality. Quite honestly, I prefer this altered reality.
Every important day that I can remember, I have worn something pink. On my wedding day I wore the warmest, most pretty shade of pink lipstick I had ever seen. I was so worried about feeling pretty on that day that I had two sessions with a professional makeup artist to teach me to apply my makeup. She also custom made colors and we made that pink lipstick especially for me. I felt so pretty that day.I am going to be honest and tell you that it has been a long time since I have felt pretty. I would love to say that it is just because I am a new mom and that I need to lose some baby weight but it has been longer than that. Do I think it is because I have forgotten to wear my pink? No, trust me I have tried. It is deeper than that.
At some point in my life and I am not sure where or when I began to associate pink with my beauty. If I went back to my strongest pink memory it would be my senior ball. It was the first time my Dad took me shopping
and he took me to the nicest dress shop in our mall. The Jessica McClintock store, I will never forget. I found the most beautiful dress. It was pink satin with silver sequins on the top. It fit perfectly. I put it on and instantly I knew this was the one. I turned in front of the mirror and adored it and the reflection staring back at me. Then I saw the price tag. $130. I knew my dad wasn't going to go for it but I had to try. I came out of the dressing room and turned around for Dad just as I had done in the mirror. I could tell he thought it was beautiful too. My Dad bought me that beautiful dress. On the day of the ball I had my hair done and slipped into my shoes that were dyed to match and my Dad told me I was beautiful.
I am realizing as I journal this right now that this moment was written into my heart for a purpose. I am desperate to hear my Daddy, The Daddy, tell me I am beautiful. A different kind of beauty, lasting beauty.
I think that I have missed the point here for way too long. All this time I have sought the beauty that reflects from a mirror and the emotion that "Pink" gives my heart. Right now it is gone and I can't summon it. I feel empty and let down. I am still in my maternity clothes, I don't get a shower every day and I can't stand to look at the pictures we snap that include me. I have worn my favorite pink socks with a hole in the toe and my favorite pink polka dot T-Shirt.
Empty.
On the day we were conceived, God did more than number the hairs on our heads. He created an intricate, living, breathing masterpiece. He is an amazing artist and inside each of us he stitched beauty. And the thread he used was desire. Deep in our being we all crave for our beauty to be seen and to feel desired. Even though it is stitched deep within us God has the same desire. A desire for our beauty to be seen and for it to bring Him glory. As an artist, he wants people to admire his work. To recognize it for the masterpiece He created it to be.
We each have gifts and talents that He has blessed us with. If you asked me what I thought mine were I would probably say singing, acting, writing, encouragement and friendship. As I look back these gifts have at different times in my life given me great fulfillment and a sense of accomplishment. The lasting, most valuable moments, have come when I was using these gifts to glorify my God. This brings me back to my neglected hats.
Today, I can say that the only gift I am actively using is my Mother's Instincts. All the rest are laying dormant and to be honest I am not even sure if I am putting Him first there. I want to be beautiful! I want this masterpiece to sing of it's Creator's glory.
So, I guess this is why I need the second blog. Any form of communication has always been therapeutic for me. (Spend 30 seconds in an elevator with me and you would know that!) But writing has often helped me connect a little deeper with myself and with God. Today, in front of of whoever decides to read this far, I commit to picking this hat back up and using it for the glory of my loving Savior.
Will I stop wearing pink? Heck NO! I will probably wear it more often and each time I do I will remember that God's desire for me to sing of His glory is what really makes me beautiful. Anyone else out there in blog land with me? If so, pick up your dusty hat and let's play dress up!
