Beautiful isn’t an adjective I would generally use to describe myself throughout my life. Even though I’ve had several people say it about me, the one person who basically called me ‘not beautiful’ left his mark on my heart at the tender age of eight.

     It was in this season that multiple life circumstances shaped how I saw myself. What I believed about the little girl named Amy Elizabeth.

     My mom was in a mental hospital. At this time, mental health professionals were using shock therapy as treatment  for disorders of the mind. In my memory, a very dear family member took my sister and I to visit our mom. Unfortunately, when it was my turn to go in to see her she was returning to her room directly following a treatment. We were in the hallway as my mom passed through. I knew who she was. She didn’t know me. I was crushed.

     According to my memory, during this time of mom’s hospitalization, my sister and I were staying with our grandparents. Besides the stress of my mom being away from home, I was very fearful of my grandparents. They made it well known of their dislike of me and how I apparently did wrong punishable things always.

     Pity. No pity. Just my reality. Fear. Anxiety. Nail biting. Hiding.

     What I believed about myself was vocalized at my First Communion. Mom in the hospital, grandmother to prepare me for the big day. Dad was there. A couple of mom’s friends were there. During the ceremony, those observing their First Communion were to go to their families to shake hands or something. Mom’s friends stopped the ceremony as they wanted me to pose for a photo. Embarrassment overtook me as it seemed everyone was staring at me. 

     At the end of the ceremony, I was standing with the other girls who took part in the ceremony. The professional photographer approached our little huddle. My heart sank when he called off all the girls’ names except mine and then directed, “All you beautiful girls, follow me.” Heard loud and clear, “Amy, you aren’t beautiful.” I wish I could say I shook it off because I knew my identity and worth in Christ. I can’t say that because I didn’t have that knowledge or understanding.

     To multiply the injury, the photographer also took my school pictures every year so annually I had to face the man who told me I wasn’t beautiful. It was a constant reminder.

     So, why am I rehashing these painful memories now? It’s because I am journeying through the photos of my life in an effort to allow God’s healing balm to be slathered over the wounds of my life. I’m currently hovering over this season of being seven and eight. This journey is taking me through long since forgotten memories that are resurfacing for me to process them with my God. I’m walking through forgiveness, for others, myself, and God. Accepting forgiveness and offering caring to myself where it’s needed. I can’t do this without God.

     I WANT HEALING! I will walk the path God has laid out for me because he knows what I need to find and live in his healing.

#healing #selfbelief #faith #wordsmatter