thoughts.

the mirror on my door.

mirrordraft3

I can’t leave my bedroom because there is a mirror on the back of my door.

When I reach for the door handle, I glance and it warns,

You can’t leave looking like that.

Out of obedience, I turn around. The carpet between that door and my other mirror is probably matted down—I go back and forth that much.

My floral bag of makeup and hot straightener can’t fix everything. Things like double chins, touching thighs, and soft stomachs aren’t easily covered with creamy concealer, though the right clothes can distract from them. And it’s funny because you’d think I’d be an expert after trying on an average of five outfits every morning, but I still have yet to decide if I own a pair of jeans that makes me look okay.

Writing this, I don’t think I am a normal person, but I have never wanted to be one more than I do right now.

I want to leave my room—like normal people do. I want to open my door to the world—like normal people do. I want to see others—like normal people do. But that is too terrifying some days.

I worry they will see what I see. Even if they see a better me, I know it’s a distraction. A cover up. A mask. A fake. Who am I anymore?

So I am trapped behind the mirror on my door. Behind the blue eyes of a girl who can’t see herself in color anymore. Behind the tattooed thoughts that I didn’t want there in the first place.

But lately, I’ve been wondering,

What if we became each other’s mirrors?

What if we described the person reflected in our eyes?

When you smile, you make strangers feel like they belong. You are relentlessly patient with people. I am at peace after talking to you. Your hugs warm my heart. You speak like a leader. Your eyes are gentle and kind. The love you give is contagious.    

Let us show you how beautiful you are. But more importantly, let the One who made you show you. Jesus thought you were to die for (Quite literally). Not for when your frame is the right size, but right now, for the heart your frame protects (1 Samuel 16:7). Not for when your face is made up with foundation, but right now, for the face He made naturally wonderful (Psalms 139:14).

He died not for you to sit in front of the mirror alone, but rather to look to Him and fall into a beautiful relationship together.

The mirror on the back of your door can’t do that. Walk out and close it behind you.

Molly

“He calls me beautiful one.” Song of Solomon 2:10

(If you want to talk, please message me. We can pray for each other. I will tell you what I see. You, my friend, are not alone. I hope you know that. Clearly, I don’t have the mess in my mind together, but maybe we can help each other sort it out. I’m here with you).

One thought on “the mirror on my door.

  1. Molly, I wish you could see in yourself what I see. One of the most beautiful human beings I have ever met–both inside, and out.

    Like

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