The above is an excerpt from Sir Edward Richardson’s Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. They come from a father admonishing his daughter against pride in/becoming puffed up over her beauty, a thing she had no hand in.

When I read this bit, I was taken back to a poem I wrote in high school. I called it Beautiful to You. In it, I cried out to God, asking him to make me beautiful in His eyes. To do a work on the inside, hoping it would make me more attractive on the outside. You see, I thought I was ugly. Not just ugly, but the ugliest thing imaginable. And there were so many who just reaffirmed that. I didn’t realize how false that was until I hit adulthood.

I fell in love for the first time at 19. What a change flattery can make! Then I learned that the only interest that first love ever had in me was based entirely on my looks and how they might help him. That was just as devastating as growing up believing I was ugly. And I saw, quickly, that I could “have no praise due to me for it”.

In high school, I cried out to God for beauty. As a young adult I alternately gave Him thanks for my looks and was angry for my looks. In the end I just wanted Him to see me as beautiful, and forget the people. I yearned to hear from the One who made me. All those others who had convinced me that I was ugly, wounded me. But I would find my solace in God. And so I developed a relationship with the One who made me.

I’m sure that many of those who called me names, who went out of their way to be mean, to hurt, to laugh at me never believed that they were just expanding an already big problem for me. I know for a fact that some of them believed I thought too much of myself (I did say before that I worked very hard NOT to be so shy and introverted, that gets confused with stuck-up a lot). But the damage was done regardless.

If I could instruct every single child on the planet in one thing, it would be this: watch your words. Words DO hurt. Words can cause irreparable damage. If I had not turned to God, I think depression would have taken hold of me to such a degree that I would not have been able to escape it. And while children are mean enough to their peers, adults do just as much damage with a careless word or thoughtless tease. It seems crazy to me the number of adults in my own life who hurt me with their words. (On a side note, there is another post coming concerning the notion that, come on, they are just words.)

Let every person tell every child: You are beautiful. You are precious. You are worthy. You are loved. These should be standard phrases in the house of a child. Sadly, that is not true. If you spend any time with a child, tell them these things. But also, tell yourself these things. You need to hear it, too. Whether you are 5, 15, or 95, YOU need to hear it! You are beautiful! I thank God for a mother who encouraged me to think for myself, who gave me support, and had I confessed these feelings to her as a child, I have no doubt she would have fought like a mama bear protecting her young to keep anyone from saying anything amiss. (Unfortunately, this is probably her first time knowing it.) But I came to grips with my feelings of inadequacy, where my looks were concerned, years ago. I now hold no illusions about myself. I look like me. I look like God created me to look. It is neither beauty nor beastly. It is the me He made. And I am good with that.

If you are not good with who you are, are not happy with the Creator’s design of you, take it up with Him. He won’t change how you look, but He will change how you feel about it. In the meantime, have a listen . . .