This is dedicated to all the young girls who have felt they are not good enough.
You are worthy.
You are beautiful.
You are loved.
Loved by the one true God who created you in His self-less image.
On afternoon as I sat in my office staring at a blinking cursor on the computer screen, my eldest, almost seven-year-old daughter approached me.
“Mommy?”
Caps lock. SHIT. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.
Sitting back, I let her fall into my arms. Stroking her hair, I noticed she wore a long face, and her big, round brown eyes held a reservoir of sadness.
Sighing, I asked. “What’s the matter?”
In a rush of tumbled and twisted words, she blurted. “I was in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I don’t like the way I look Mommy. I look ugly.”
Huh? Where did this come from? I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Shaking my head, I finally responded. “Wait. What?”
I was caught off guard. My head was in a whirlwind. The truth was, I was in a self-loathing mood. It was my birthday. Yippy! And I felt like crap. I had been trying to write a blog post for my website for weeks and frankly was having a mental block. What kind of writer am I if I can’t even come up with anything to write?
Plus, I was having one of those summers. Too many family distractions were pulling me away from what I loved to do—writing. I frantically searched my mind for something profound to say and still nothing. I was tired and burnt out, and understood her sadness. Like my blank screen, I had nothing to offer her. Just fear. Fear of my inspiration drying up. Fear of the realization that my first born and her younger sister could be influenced by a world that puts stipulations on everything. From weight, height, hair, etc., and then pollutes their minds, persuading them to think they are not worthy.
It’s heartbreaking to see how things are enfolding in this life, and knowing that you may not have control over them, either. People have become so consumed about the flesh that they don’t look at the heart of a person—the emotional tracker of all humanity. But I am still hopeful. I still pray for that silver-lining of parenthood to help me teach my girls how not to be so worried about what others think.
She repeated, “I’m ugly, Momma.”
Holding her close to my chest, I prayed. What can I tell her God? Please, give me something.
And just like that, coming from our stereo, we heard these words from new Christian Artist, Blanca:
Another voice, another choice To listen to words somebody said Another day, I replay, one too many doubts inside my head Am I strong, beautiful, am I good enough
Do I belong after all, that I’ve said and done Is it real when I feel I don’t measure up Am I loved
I’m runnin’ to the One who knows me Who made every part of me in His hands I’m holdin’ to the One who holds me ‘Cause I know, ’cause I am I know who I am I am sure, I am Yours
Turnin’ down, tunin’ out Every single word that caused me pain Unashamed and unafraid ‘Cause I believe You mean it when You say I am strong, beautiful I am good enough And I belong after all, ’cause of what You’ve done This is real what I feel No one made it up I am loved
I’m runnin’ to the One who knows me Who made every part of me in His hands I’m holdin’ to the One who holds me ‘Cause I know, ’cause I am I know who I am I am sure, I am Yours
Fearfully, wonderfully, perfectly You had made me
I’m runnin’ to the One who knows me Ya-a-ay I’m holdin’ to the One who holds me Holds me holds me-e-e-yay
I’m runnin’ to the One who knows me Who made every part of me in His hands I’m holdin’ to the One who holds me ‘Cause I know, ’cause I am I know who I am I am sure, I am Yours Oh, I am Yours I am sure, I am Yours And I know who I am
I rocked her in my arms to the melody of the music, and when it was over, I said: “I love you and your sister so much. Not because of your messy hair or sauce-stained shirt, or bruised up knees, but because of who you are. And, to whom you are. You are His.”
Wide-eyed, she stared at me. I hugged her closer. As much as my child needed to hear these words, I think I needed to hear them too. No writer is perfect. No writer can write awe-inspiring and profound prose all the time. It takes work. Lots of work. I just know that…. I’m holdin’ to the One who holds me, to guide and direct my steps every day.
Thank you, Blanca for making this song a mantra for those who are lost, and all those who suffer from low self-esteem, as well as casualties of bulimia, anorexia, obesity, and bullying.
Believe in the power of love and encouragement, and then pass it on.
Check out Blanca’s wonderfully, uplifting video here.
