Beautiful walked in. The night had been so good, the music was hoppin', the drinks were plentiful, and she was still young, and beautiful. Somehow things got ugly, and she ended up in a bar brawl with some other woman. Maybe the other was beautiful, too. Maybe not. Whoever she was, she tried to take beautiful's head off. Maybe they were both drunk, beautiful was, but maybe not.
So beautiful walks in, and she is striking. Her eyes are an amazing tiger's eye gold. She is statuesque. Her face is cut and she'll need stitches. She is poised. She's handling things well. When we are alone, she asks if she can go have a smoke. I keep and eye out for her. I want to protect her. She is beautiful, but she is fragile tonight, and I can always see fragile, even under pretty masks.
She returns as an ambulance is bringing in a guy, and he really looks jacked up. I say to her, "I hope your night gets better." And she says, "I'm not coming in like him, so I'm good." And I say, "See, it's better already." And we laugh, and I'm glad because laughter can be scarce around here.
I see her an hour or so later when I change stations. She is in the hall on a stretcher, and she is crying. She came in alone. The ER is a lonely place to be in the middle of the night, alone. By now she is crying. I try to soothe her. I ask her what's wrong, and she tells me that she's worried about the scar. I tell her she is beautiful, and she'd be alright. But I don't think she beleives me. And I'm sorry about that.
I don't know what it is to be that beautiful. My sisters assure me that I am very pretty, but I never really pulled it off. I got pretty words, and most days, that was enough. But I wonder about beautiful. Is she a model? Will that scar end her career? Will she be unable to be the center of attention at bars on Monday nights? Will she become a mere mortal? Will she still *feel* beautiful?
How hard it is to be a woman. How we desire to be beautiful. How it hurts, when we are not--or think we're not.
Beautiful, I am praying for you, that God will heal that scar that's on the inside.
We are all beautiful to the One who made us. Let's stop doubting that.
raga d
1 comment:
I read once that all women want to know: "Am I beautiful? Is there anything in me worthy to be pursued?"
I want to be beautiful. I want to sparkle like those princesses in the fairytales--the ones the handsome prince is willing to fight for, search for, give His all for.
Hmmm. . . I saw a quote today by Elizabeth Mills. It said: God is love defined, Jesus is love manifest, the Holy Spirit is love empowered and we are love's pursuit.
I'd better hold onto that one. I AM a princess--pursued by the High King Himself.
Paula
www.gracereign.blogspot.com
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