Life is amazing, beautiful, hard, exhausting, precious, and everything in between. There is so much goodness which I sometimes fail to recognize or appreciate until after-the-fact.
When I was in elementary school, I was teased by some of the popular boys in regards to my ears. They poke out, especially at the top, and these *awesome* young men would make fun of me for it. I brushed it off and pretended that it didn't bother me, because I knew that if I gave them a reaction I would just be fueling the fire.
Elf Ears
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| Here I am in grade school (2nd grade, I think) |
However, I became incredibly self-conscious about my ears. I always wanted them covered. One time, when going swimming with my friend, I made sure to do my hair in two braids that went over the tops of my ears and covered them as completely as possible. I never wore my hair up, and I even hated to tuck my hair behind my ears. For a band parade, the girls were supposed to wear their hair in a ponytail, and I worried endlessly about how on earth I was going to keep my ears hidden. True story, I once used some kind of glue for fake nails to glue my ears back. This absurd level of concern followed me everywhere.
The thing is, I didn't like those boys who teased me and I didn't truly care what they thought of me. BUT, if they thought my ears stuck out and that they were worthy of taunt and scorn, other people (aka everyone else) must have thought the same thing. Right?
Wrong.
It wasn't until I was in high school that I started wearing my hair up. I came to a point where I decided on a whim that it was more convenient for me to pull it up in a ponytail one day. In my mind, I began to worry. Everyone was now going to notice my ears and how they stuck out, and the comments and whispers would start. Right?
Wrong.
I got nothing but compliments that day about how I looked. Someone, and I wish I remembered who it was so I could thank them, even commented that my ears were super cute. MY ears? Cute?
So I took a good, honest look at my ears in the mirror. And you know what? They were cute! The way they stuck out was adorable. I began, for the first time since I was nine years old, to think of my ears as a normal, human, non-embarrassing feature. In fact, I came to love my ears. They have become one of my favorite features. I adore my elf ears!
Now, here's the thing: we sometimes spend so much time worrying and feeling insecure about things that are actually special and--dare I say--cute. I love to rejoice in a feature that I used to ache over. It just took a change in my own perspective to recognize that those same ears I had all along were an awesome, lovable part of my physical being.
Pretty Stripes
I recently became a new mom. I had my first baby in spring of 2015, and I adore her. I have struggled a great deal, but I think all moms do. I especially struggled during pregnancy. It was a rough experience. While I am deeply grateful that I was able to carry and birth a child (it's miraculous), pregnancy was gross. I especially had a hard time with the emotional side-effects that came as a result of all the changes happening to my body. My healthy, generally fit, active body changed completely. Many times, I would see myself in the mirror and begin to cry. The first stretch marks I found were especially devastating. I simply felt horrible about the way I looked and could hardly bear to look at myself.
It was depressing, and sometimes still is.
It was depressing, and sometimes still is.
During my pregnancy, I was having a conversation with one of my sisters who has a few children of her own. When she was in the last few months of pregnancy with her second child, her first saw a fresh batch of stretch marks that went all the way across her belly. This precious little girl told my sister that she had such "pretty stripes" as she gently touched her. I wanted to bawl my eyes out when I heard this, not just because I was pregnant and therefore emotional about everything, but because it resonated within me and I recognized it as truth.
Women, in a pretty literal sense, sacrifice their bodies in order to bear a child or children. Those stretch marks are marks of love and sacrifice.
The poignant truth of that little niece of mine has stuck with me. Any time I see those stretch marks from my pregnancy, I think to myself, "Pretty stripes, pretty stripes," and I feel encouraged.
It can bring joy instead of sadness. I can see those scars as badges of honor and divinity.
Our "Pretty stripes" are reminders of the experiences that make us the kind of people we need to be.
There you have it--the reasoning behind this quirky blog title. I want to be able to post about experiences that gave me encouragement and insight, in the hopes of passing those feelings along to others.
For now, my statement is this: rejoice in your elf ears and pretty stripes! They are beautiful, unique, and powerful.
Women, in a pretty literal sense, sacrifice their bodies in order to bear a child or children. Those stretch marks are marks of love and sacrifice.
The poignant truth of that little niece of mine has stuck with me. Any time I see those stretch marks from my pregnancy, I think to myself, "Pretty stripes, pretty stripes," and I feel encouraged.
It can bring joy instead of sadness. I can see those scars as badges of honor and divinity.
Our "Pretty stripes" are reminders of the experiences that make us the kind of people we need to be.
There you have it--the reasoning behind this quirky blog title. I want to be able to post about experiences that gave me encouragement and insight, in the hopes of passing those feelings along to others.
For now, my statement is this: rejoice in your elf ears and pretty stripes! They are beautiful, unique, and powerful.
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