The Woman I See in the Mirror

The other day I looked at myself in the mirror a little longer than usual.

Not because I was getting ready.

Not because I was fixing my hair.

I just... looked.

It's funny how we can spend years looking at our own faces without actually seeing ourselves.

For a long time, whenever I looked in the mirror, I was looking for flaws. A new wrinkle. Tired eyes. Weight I had gained. A bad skin day. Lips that looked too thin. Hair that wasn't cooperating. Somehow I always found something that needed fixing.

I don't think I realized how harsh I had become with myself.

There was always this quiet pressure to become prettier, younger, more desirable. Maybe then I would finally feel enough. Maybe then I wouldn't be so easy to replace. Maybe then no one would ever want to look somewhere else.

It's strange how suffering changes the questions we ask ourselves.

Lately, when I look in the mirror, I don't ask, "Am I beautiful enough?"

I find myself asking,

"Do I look peaceful?"

That surprised me.

I don't know exactly when the question changed.

Maybe it happened little by little.

Maybe it happened after enough tears.

Maybe it happened after enough prayers.

Or maybe God simply grew louder than my insecurities.

The other day, after having a facial, I looked at myself and smiled.

Not because I suddenly looked like someone else.

Quite the opposite.

I looked more like myself.

More rested.

More alive.

It wasn't vanity that made me emotional.

It was recognition.

For just a brief moment, I saw a glimpse of the woman I remembered before so much stress had settled into my face.

I realized something then.

There is a difference between trying to become beautiful...

and allowing yourself to receive beauty with gratitude.

One comes from fear.

The other comes from peace.

I'm still learning that distinction.

I enjoy taking care of myself.

I enjoy feeling feminine.

I enjoy putting on a nice outfit or fixing my hair or wearing a little makeup.

None of those things are the problem.

The question is always...

"Why?"

Am I trying to prove something?

Am I trying to compete with women who don't even know I exist?

Am I trying to erase the fear of being forgotten?

Or am I simply receiving the body God gave me with gratitude?

Those are very different motivations.

I've discovered that vanity is much quieter than I once imagined.

It doesn't always say,

"You're prettier than everyone else."

Sometimes it whispers,

"You're only worthy if you're prettier."

That lie is just as dangerous.

Because it quietly turns beauty into a burden.

I don't want that anymore.

I want to become the kind of woman who delights in beauty without becoming enslaved to it.

The kind of woman who can appreciate a beautiful face without comparing it to her own.

The kind of woman who can grow older without believing she's becoming less worthy of love.

The kind of woman who smiles at her reflection because she recognizes God's daughter looking back at her.

Not because she's perfect.

Because she's loved.

Maybe that's the beauty I've been searching for all along.

Not the kind the world applauds.

The kind that slowly appears on a face that has learned how to forgive.

A face that has cried honestly.

A face that laughs easily.

A face that has stopped trying to earn what God has already freely given.

Perhaps holiness is beautiful for that very reason.

Not because it removes every wrinkle.

Because it teaches a soul how to shine through them.

And if one day I become an old woman with silver hair and tired hands, I hope someone looks at me and thinks,

"She looks like she's been loved by God for a very long time."

I can't imagine a greater compliment.

💜