I can't imagine that there are many people who enjoy standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing only the emperor's new clothes.
Maybe I speak only for myself here.
This is what the mirror speaks to my self:
"The texture of this suit could use a quick pass of a hot iron in places here and there. Particularly here where it seems to fold into an accordion at the brow. I'm not exactly sure what filler was used when constructing the detail around the hips but it seems to be sagging from below the rump and spilling around the sides of the thigh. A decent dart or tuck would help with that. The color of the fabric used seems to be marred a bit around the belly, almost as if it had been stretched incorrectly and slight tearing of the ivory fabric is noticeable.
"Fatigue shows in the area used to cover the face. I wonder, are we using used and worn materials there? The shoulders slump where they should be sharp and erect. Ill-fitting seems especially fitting since the mannequin appears exceptionally ill. Where there should be pop and pizazz there appears only what would be, what could be if there were more felt energy in this ensemble."
Too many, many days I hold a judge's mallet in my hand as I criticize my every flaw.
I could be in better shape if only I disciplined myself to exercise consistently. I would be a better mother if more energy could be ransomed from the thieves of laundry, cooking, dishes, and dusting. I should serve others more, reach out to the verbal cries of help I get from all around.
I were that I were less tired. I wish that I were more healthy.
If only I was less critical. If only I didn't find it so necessary to fight against the flow.
I wonder if all my best efforts at all of it, at any of it, are worthy at all.
I strive to give my all, my best. I give to God it all, the rest.
But at the end of the day, what is left of me?
"Most of man's psychological make-up is probably due to his body: when his body dies all that will fall off him, and the real central man, the thing that chose, that made the best or worst out of this material, will stand naked. All sorts of nice things which we thought our own, but which were really due to a good digestion, will fall off some of us; all sorts of nasty things which were due to complexes or bad health will fall off others. We shall then, for the first time, see every one as he really was. There will be surprises." (C.S. Lewis)
I try to push past the limitations of my body, of my health, of my self thinking that I must do to prove how much I love my husband, my family, the world, my God. I weep over loss of strength believing it is a loss of worth. I struggle with my lack of success thinking that it is a lack of will, or worse, a lack of love.
The Truth has whispered once again to me:
I am more than my frame. After all, my frame is but dust.
I am more than what I can do. Silent, restful prayer still packs a powerful punch.
"I am a soul. I have a body." (C.S. Lewis, paraphrased)
Suddenly, I'm not so afraid to look at myself naked. What I see is only smoke and mirrors. Who I am is what God sees every day with His naked eye, one that allows Him to see what truly lies on the inside.
