There is power in reflections. Reflections provide a representation of the image. They show me the me that is seen, not the me that is imagined or perceived.
But what happens when the reflections become distorted? Instead of an actual reflection, they become distorted like the crazy funhouse mirror. When I don’t see with the right vision, then the image coming back to me is wrong and the power in reflections works to hold me down instead of giving me the strength to move forward.
I wish I could see myself the way my husband sees me. He sees through the blind eyes of love and the bronze tan-skinned, shapely, young woman he married stands before him today.
I don’t see her.
I barely remember her.
Instead, I see the extra weight where the strong legs were at one time. I see the rolls of weight where the shapely once existed. I see the wrinkles where the tan skin once was.
I don’t see what he sees.
I thought about this as I took some time to enjoy a little Vitamin D. I normally get the spot to myself, but this time there was another lady who had beat me to the pool edge. For a moment, I considered going back to my home – to hide, to cower, to wait until I could be alone.
I couldn’t help but wonder if the people around us saw the me I see or the one he sees or somewhere in between. I want to believe his eyes, but it’s hard when mine tell me different. I want to embrace his vision so I can at least see the hope of what might be.
The other day, I went for a walk. I had taken some time to sit in the sun so I was feeling especially enthusiastic. The sky was blue, the wind was the perfect spring delight. Fortunately, I didn’t break out in song (which I am prone to do when I’m out walking), because I came around the corner and a man greeted me. He commented about it being a nice day for a walk. I agreed. He then mentioned that the day was pretty.
“The day is amazing,” I added.
“No. I said you were pretty.”
I wish I could see what that man saw.
Many years ago, I asked Christ into my heart. He didn’t just accept me, He embraced me. He changed my name and made me part of His family.
Since then, I haven’t always held up my end. I didn’t always make good choices after that decision, but I did always come back to that decision. Some days, I’m so wrapped up in the bad choices I’ve made that I forget about that one good choice.
He doesn’t dwell on the mistakes or the missteps. Instead, He remembers the one choice that changed it all. In my forgetting, I miss that the one good choice cleansed all the bad choices.
I don’t see myself that way.
Too often, I see what’s wrong with me or what’s not the same as it used to be. The reflection that shows up in the mirror is not the image I conjured in my mind as I was getting dressed. I don’t like what I see because I see with veiled eyes.
What would happen if I saw with the unveiled eyes of love that my husband sees me with?
What would happen if I saw with the unfiltered eyes of a stranger?
What would happen if I saw with the eys of the Son who sacrificed it all for me?
I suspect that when I change my vision, my whole world will change as well.