I Was The Ugliest Girl She Had Ever Seen.

(Note: This is an excerpt from a chapter in a book I am writing.  If you have 10 minutes to invest in your soul then I invite you to grab an ice tea and receive. Your soul will thank you.)

I was five years old; a sweet, petite, front tooth-less, cutie-pie in Mrs. Peter’s kindergarten class in Mt. Lake, Minnesota (who wouldn’t want to grow up in a town with such a delightful name?)

It was recess.  And like most days, I was thrilled to attempt yet again to master the wooden balancing beam- hoping this would be the triumphant day I would finally master all three tiers before losing my footing along with my daydreams… as a gymnast in the Winter Olympics I have you to know. Oh, and I was certainly darling in my leotard and the crowd simply adored me.

I attended a small school; seriously, like less than 30 kids in my entire grade. Despite the school size we did have a huge-out-of-this-world-playground. This was before the days when fuddy-duddy-overly-concerned-highly-paranoid-old-people with clearly not enough to do sat around long tables acting important while making up silly rules and enforcing ridiculous codes all in the name of protecting children’s safety. Whew.  Translation: they managed to ruin all the fun and suck most of the adventure right out of childhood. 

Thankfully I grew up before all that. Which meant we had a three story high (well it seemed like it to a 5 yr old) metal slide.  It managed to peel the skin off the back of my legs more than once. Something about hot metal and high speeds meeting raw flesh. Nice.

We had teeter totters- that bruised a few bottoms when ‘friends’ bailed out… suddenly dropping the helpless kid at the top back to the ground like a cement block tossed out a window. Ouch. (I never did figure out that those ‘nice’ kids offering to ride with me had ulterior motives.)

We had climbing towers that were too tall and cement under the swings and rocks under the monkey bars.   We had a good ole Merry-Go-Round that I am sure reached speeds of 200 MPH launching more than a few of its brave, albeit wimpy riders clear across the playground. 

It was awesome!  And somehow we all survived.

So there I was. Happy of spirit and pure of heart. Have fun doing what kindergartners do. (If you are picturing Ramona in your mind then you are spot on. If you don’t know who she is, I highly recommend the movie.)  It happened on one of those run of the mill kind of days while I was happily minding my own business about to stick the landing of my Olympic routine when she rudely knocked me back to reality.  I sensed her approaching before I even saw her.  I could tell she wasn’t going to be nice.  This gigantic second grader came stomping up to me. With clarity and conviction these words spewed from her lips,

“You are the ugliest little girl I have ever seen!” 

And with that declaration she marched off as boldly and arrogantly as she came.  My Olympics were over. My dreams sabotaged. My esteem plummeted. After all, I was now…

THE. Ugliest. Girl. EVER. 

Quite the statement. Grant it, we lived in a small town and perhaps she didn’t get out much; maybe she didn't even own a TV; and our school was small so I may not have been up against the masses but still, out of all the girls in the entire world she had ever seen I won the title? The Ugliest?  I felt like she placed a sash on me that day with those cruel words printed on it.

Ugliest Girl Ever.

 I was compelled to wear it, I guess.  So I did. Every day.   

I am not sure the thought had even dawned on me prior to that day that anyone could be ugly. My mom read me the story of the ugly duckling. I thought it was simply a book about a duck.   I realized that sunny  day on my elementary school playground when I was just 5 years old that I was the ugly duckling.

It was a story about me.

I guess it wasn't make-believe after all. And no, through the sadness, apparently I did not have the capacity to remember the end of the story.  The duck turned into a beautiful swan. I simply couldn't get past the ugly part.

Because my school was small, I graduated with the same handful of kids I started kindergarten with 13 years earlier. Which meant I saw this mean girl every day - several times a day for the next 11 years (great).  Recess, lunch, library, hallways, study hall, PE, football games, student lounge, locker room… you get the idea. She was everywhere.  And every time I saw her I heard those piercing words-You are the ugliest girl I have ever seen. Every time I heard them I thought they might actually be true.

Those words cut deep pathways into my mind and soul during those years.

Thankfully I grew up in a loving home; and my husband tells me daily how beautiful he thinks I am. But still. You can’t walk away fully unscathed from those kinds of wounds. I have a feeling you know what I am talking about. 

(Just for the record I think God got her back because quite frankly she turned out to be an ugly duck. It would’ve taken the Extreme Makeover Show to chisel out the Swan if there was one actually hiding somewhere beneath her face.  She was just a mean kind of ugly. 

Ok, that was NOT very nice. Sorry.  I just have very little mercy for bullies. I am sure God will deal with me later on that but I want you to know this pastor’s wife has real feelings just like you do. It’s ok. Jesus got mad too you know.)

 So you didn't win The Ugliest Girl title. I did. Sorry. There is only one winner people.  Maybe a different sash was placed upon you or truth be told, you made one for yourself.  Hand sewn – custom made just for you. 

Unwanted. Failure. Inept. Rejected.  Fat. Unattractive. Lousy Mom. Second Rate Wife. Not Enough. Too Much.  Untalented. Ordinary. Sinful.  Unstable. Single. Barren. Poor. Unworthy. Forgotten. Shy. Abused.  Betrayed. Forgettable. Selfish. Glutton. Shop-a-holic. Diet Coke-a-holic (finally got a few of  you there.) 

Can I just say something? Could it be that perhaps the story of the ugly duckling is all backwards? Maybe we start out as a beautiful swan but sadly many of us slowly and unknowingly turn into an ugly duckling over time.

Not because the things people say to us are true but because we start believing that they are.

 We put the sash on. We receive the title. We let our dreams die.  And all that turns us ugly from the inside out; not the other way around.

Listen to me sweet thing… life will make you ugly-it will.

It doesn't take more than a few decades for the rawness of life, for the hurt and heartache, for the disillusionment to settle deep into the marrow of our very being and change us from something beautiful into something well, rather pathetic.

You’ve seen her.  She is not attractive. Oh the world might call her so. But she is harsh, has deep angry wrinkles; and she is bitter. Her eyes are heavy and grumpy, her demeanor is irritable, her lips are not graced with sweetness and her behavior is not usually kind.  She complains a lot. She gossips often.  She is full of jealousy and insecurity. Her joy has been stolen.

It doesn't matter a cotton pickin hill of beans how cute her outfit is.  A really good hair day does not help. Pinterest and coconut oil don't put a dent in it either.  Not with this kind of ugly.

This is what happens to a 50 yr old woman who decided in her 20’s and 30’s to not DO something with her hurt.  This is what happens when a woman is given a title and she decides to wear it.  Day after day, year after year. This is what happens to a woman who has handed over her joy and her hope to the difficult moments and people that invade her life- for one decade after the other. 

If you do nothing, you will grow ugly. I promise.

You don’t get to decide when you are 50 or 60 or 70 how you will look.  You can slap on as much night cream as you want sweet thing and inject Botox into your face every month if your man will cough up enough money. 

But you will become the woman who you have fostered. You will turn into who you have nurtured all these years. It will catch up to you.  You can’t live life bitter, hurt, offended, jealous and ungrateful; while at the same time believing lies about yourself and accepting titles that aren’t true and then hope to turn out beautiful later.

You will simply look like who you’ve been all these years. That's it.

Chalk it up to my years of working in nursing homes. I met some beautiful gracious old ladies who had…

Deep wrinkles yet sweet faces…

Droopy yet loving eyes…

Teeth missing yet happy smiles…

Weathered skin yet kind countenances…

Unpleasant circumstances yet grateful spirits…

Failing bodies yet vibrant demeanors…

And all of them had …

Rough lives.

Somewhere along the line these beautiful women decided to not let the roughness of life steal their beauty or their hope.  Their offenders - forgiven. Their hurts -healed up. Their disappointments - didn’t beat them.  Their pain - didn’t embitter them. Their failures- didn't stop them. The bullies-didn't get to keep their joy they tried so hard to take.

Beauty won out.  I want to be just like that when I grow up.

There were others who didn't make it to the end quite so beautifully. They turned ugly and harsh over time. I am guessing you know her. You might even be afraid of her. Nothing draws you to her. Nothing at all. 
Girlfriend, unless we purpose to behave differently some of us will become just like that.

 So here’s my plea to all of the younger women…

Deal with your stuff. Do business with the Lord. Take your hurts to Him.

Let him heal up your heart and bind up your wounds. Like daily.

If you don’t - all that junk will be chiseled into your face one day.  Un-dealt with hurt and pain and sin will turn you into the ugly duckling. It will. You’ll wear it close like yoga pants. People will see it. And good luck gettin it off.  Would you consider receiving the oil of gladness instead of the spirit of despair that God offers. The crown of beauty instead of ashes. (Isaiah 61)

For the rest of us… middle agers and on up… we are way behind on this one. In some senses it’s getting too late for us - we have set the mold.

The cement is hardening quickly.

It’s true in my own life. I don’t try to but I have built up walls. Okay, more like bunkers made to withstand a Weapon of Mass Destruction, around my heart. I sense its hardening. I sense I am too.

 I feel tired some days. I am tired of hurt.  Honestly, I am tired of the people who do the hurting. I can grow weary of pressure and betrayal and expectations.  On those days I start feeling like there’s a traffic jam in my soul of people I need to forgive who will never ask for it.

 I sometimes tire of feeling left out and forgotten yet critiqued and judged.

I get weary once and a while of the stresses and weight of being the pastor’s wife and the assumption that my life is perfect. It’s not.  Women like to assume that I have a boatload of friends too. I don’t. 

And people simply freak out when the pastor’s wife is struggling. Great. Seriously and some of you wish you could have the life of your pastor’s wife?   Believe me the attention you think she gets is usually not the kind you would want. It’s not.  

My heart at times just can’t bear it.  Lately I find that I often struggle to trust people. I rehearse things in my mind that may not be true. I read into situations. I perceive things that may not be accurate. I assume things I shouldn’t. Well, on second thought, maybe I should.  See, it’s exhausting being me some days.

What about you? What are you weary of? What is weighing on your soul? What is threatening to turn you ugly? 

 You have stuff too. We all do. Those women who you perceive have it all together? Well, they don’t. 

You are not alone in your struggle. I just bore my guts so you’d know that. You matter that much to me.

I am at a crossroads of sorts, an important one.  Maybe you are too. Do something drastic and risky with my heart or leave it and let it turn me into the very thing that girl called me 37 years ago.

 Here is what I know and believe: if we run to Jesus and sincerely ask him and then allow him to create in us a pure heart, renew in us a right spirit and a steadfast mind (Psalms 51); He is willing and more than able to do just that. But girlfriend, you better believe He is going to ask you and me to engage with him and do some really hard work. 

 The older we are, well, the harder the work will be. Great. I know.

We’ve got business to take care of. We do. Years of junk to peel off, scrape off and wash off. Let’s risk our little hearts and be willing to lay it all raw before God.  Let’s confess sin, demolish lies and blaze new paths of truth in our brains (2 Cor 10:4-5); but whatever it takes let’s do the thing. We need courage to face life again. We need courage to be brave enough to soften up and let the walls crumble around us. We will be hurt-again. Pain will threaten to drown us-again. Heartaches will try to consume us-again. Our minds will attempt to sabotage us-again. None of that will ever go away as long as we are pounding pavement of planet earth...

But ugly is not worth the self protected walls we build up around our hardening hearts.

That’s far too high of a price for me. 

 The most reliable and fail proof anti aging beauty treatment available to you at no charge…

A current heart with God. Keep one.  Apply daily. Repeat as often as needed. 
If we are going to kick ugly to the curb we need  a heart that knows with confidence she is loved deeply by the Abba Father. You dear one, are a beloved daughter of the King of Kings. He delights over you with singing. He rejoices at the sight of you and is thrilled by the thought of you. He dances over you while you are unaware.  He likes you. A lot. He does. (Zeph 3:17, Deut 33:12)

So I guess The Little Ms. Playground Meanies we all face can take a hike. God has spoken. We are His. We are enough because He is enough. Your soul really can rest. Your mind really can cease the ruminating madness. Breath deeply. Inhale his lavish love for you which will in turn quiet down your precious heart. 

No matter how saggy, gray and wrinkled we become we can be beautiful and radiant. We truly can.

 Ugly is easy. Beauty is not. But I want beauty.

 Since you hung in there with me till the end… I think you do too.

May the beauty of the Lord be upon us. Psalms 90:17 NKJV

Those who look to him are radiant. Psalms 34:5

Wisdoms brightens a woman’s face and changes its hard appearance.  Ecclesiastes 8:1

You are precious to me. You are precious to your Creator. You are.

Believing that Beauty can abound right alongside of my ever increasing wrinkles,

 Amy Joy