Hands
You should be proud of your hands.
Hands of a woman who has worked hard.
Worked well.
Good, decent, hard working hands.
I am starting to get gray hair.
I have age spots.
I am 32.
In the months leading up to our marriage, I attended counseling.
Together, Big Strong Man and I took marriage counseling.
I also took self-counseling.
For those of you who may not already be married, I would highly
recommend both: marriage and self counseling.
The marriage counseling is pretty common and self-explanatory.
We chose to do this to both humble ourselves during the months
of difficult questions and assignments, as well as exhort one
another while learning about one another: quirks and all.
Self-counseling is another story.
It can be humbling and exhilarating, or a combination of both.
I chose to do this because I did not want to get married thinking
that this man who made my feet float could possibly keep them
above ground forever.
I knew he could not.
People get married for many reasons, and I had no false-precepts
about any easy happily ever after.
I needed to love me before I could love him the right way and not
depend on him for my own happiness.
We are surrounded, every day, by influences through media and
relations.
What are you feeding your mind?
What are you allowing in?
Are you confident in your self-worth?
Do you like you?
More and more, I find that people do not like themselves.
We think we are too fat...or ugly.
Our hair is graying and our eye-sight fading.
Age spots, cellulite...we just pick ourselves apart with such ferocity.
It has taken me 32 years to say this, but I like me.
When I was taking the self-counseling, I was once asked to stand in
front of a full-length mirror and tell myself what I loved about me.
I stood there crying.
Nothing.
I liked my teeth, which got lots of compliments, but they looked too
yellow at that time.
I was running and my body was in really good shape, but I couldn't look
past my thighs which still touched, just a little.
I stood there, crying, because I could not even voice a like for myself,
much less a love.
This is humbling to write about.
Humbling to relive.
When I spoke with my Momma though, and she looked at her hands, I
knew the importance of a post like this.
One of perspective.
The beautiful words typed in italics above were spoken by my brother to our
Momma many years ago. She never forgot them.
I have hair. And a face.
My eyes work and my body is healthy.
And this body I once mistreated with diuretics and purging, this one I would
not allow to rest until I worked it to its bone.
This body I cursed at and hated.
It serves me well.
It has forgiven me.
And in return, I can look at it and speak words of gratitude and love.
And I post this because it is a learning process I am in.
A life-course on how God sees me -and you!- and how He loves us!
------
You are fearfully and wonderfully made...Psalm 139:14
I am my Lover's, the one He desires...Song of Solomon 7:10
...the Lord is thinking about me right now...Psalm 40:17
...surely Your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days
of my life...Psalm 23:6
MY HANDS ARE SMALL, I KNOW,
BUT THEY'RE NOT YOURS, THEY ARE MY OWN.
May you love yourself a little more today, gomommyblogger
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