You are more than your curated squares

One of the deepest desires of the human heart is to be loved an accepted. We try to fit in. Stand out. Imitate. Prove ourselves. We want others to love us. Often we will do whatever it takes, even put on a bit of a facade to get it. Other times we know that what people perceive is not the real person inside, and it breaks our hearts. What I long for most of all is to see deeper than the external. Sometimes I wish I could pull back the layers of my being and bare my soul for all to see and know. As of late, my heart feels so burned by all I see around me. It’s like a tidal wave of longing for acceptance. Hiding behind a wall of square images and 160 characters, we linger in deeper, darker places. Perhaps I think too much. Maybe it’s because I’m a rather private, introspective person that I feel the weight of these things. With every post I wish I could find the person behind it, give them a hug and take them to coffee. We know so much, yet so little about people anymore. How can you really know a person when we are too “connected” to go beyond appearances?

Can I be soul-baringly honest for a moment? Can I rip off the external so you can hear my heart? I don’t know how you came upon this post, what connection we have or how you know or perceive me. I’m sure there is some idea in your head of who I am. In summation, I am an artist. I always have been. It started as a little girl, making up songs about anything I could think of. People around me heard my voice and beckoned me to share the gift. It grew as a girl in art class. “Talent” they said. “Pursue it” they urged. All along, I was terrified, a tiny little girl doubting myself at every step. My legs shaking, knees knocking and wishfully hoping to return to the shadows where no one knows my name. If people see you, they will judge you. Present yourself and they might not accept you. Or worse, they will only see you for those external things that can be seen in the light. The face, not the heart.

When I was a teenager, I asked God why He made me the way He did. I know I’m not the most beautiful girl in the world. There is always someone “more” of what you want to be, or wish you were. Still, that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen that look in other people’s eyes, feel their hate and distain from a glance. It was the same look that I got in grade school when the popular girls said I wasn’t cool enough to sit at their table, but different. So I tried dressing very plain. Uncolorful. Super simple. (Which if you know me at all, is the exact opposite of what comes natural to me.) Don’t do anything to be flashy at all. Maybe then they will accept me, like me. I tried not being girly. Barely any makeup. Inside just wishing people could see past my exterior, even just for a moment, so see the real me beneath. I was so afraid when I started dating that a guy would only like me for the outside and never love me for my heart. Of course, Jonathan proved me wrong and God knew what my heart needed. Still, at first I tested him, putting on the most matronly thing I could find in my closet when I’d see him. It all seems a bit silly now.

After years, I am much more comfortable in my own skin. I know how God has wired me and He is using that in the ways He desires. I’m certainly not perfect, but I’ve accepted and embraced what He has for me. It is not what I dreamed of by any means, but it is good. Even still, it pushes me farther than I feel comfortable going. “Putting myself out there” doesn’t come naturally. Showing my art, my heart can be crippling if I let it. Some days, like today, I wish I could rip everything apart and scream that I am so much more than what you can see, and that you are so much more than I can see too.

God has gifted me, I have no shadow of a doubt, to see beauty in the world. I cannot begin to understand how you might see the world, because we are different. Me? I see beauty. I see a sweet, beautiful young girl, trying to learn how God has gifted her. She doesn’t see what I see – that spark, that life that is yet to be lived and all the ways God is going to use her. Huge doubts that she can ever be or do anything worthwhile are often consuming, but if she was fully confident in her own abilities, she wouldn’t learn to rely on God. It is a beautiful story. I see a young mom doing her best to maintain sanity in the crazy beautiful season of mothering young children. She doesn’t see what I see – the enthralling, inspiring vigor for relishing every moment, every season. I see the dreams that wax and wane like things floating just out of grasp. “Maybe one day” she sighs. But she doesn’t see that merely having those dreams is beautiful. It means there is still passion, still plenty of life yet to be lived. I see the elderly man who has been through great loss. He can barely see anything but the empty place. But He doesn’t see at I see – his large, wrinkled hand extends in worship, and I know he is broken and it is beautiful. In sorrow, the strength of God shines bright. I see a beautiful reunion coming one day, and a purpose of living out every day as the last. I see a twenty-something entrepreneur, wounded by criticism and doubting the gift, the purpose. She doesn’t see what I see – those wounds bespeak a  beautiful passion. Where we hurt deeply is where we often find the greatest inspiration. I see the growth that will come from a hard lesson. I see a girl dealing with heartache. She doesn’t see what I see – beauty that is not based on a relationship that didn’t work out. She is far more valuable than that. All she can do is wonder what is wrong with her, and all I can see is that she’s right where she needs to be. Healing and growing is what will make a beautiful story. She’ll be able to look back and see how God’s plan was for the best and how He shaped her heart to be more like His. I see so many little ones. (Because let’s be real, so many people I know have kids now.) They, of course, don’t see what I see – I see life, beautiful life. So much possibility. Little sweet ones that are so much more than a cute picture or the clothes their parents put them in. They are their own unique, wonderful person and I see tiny glimpses of who they might become.

I see hope friends. I see such beautiful, beautiful things. I understand that we cannot really know everyone around us. There is only so much transparency you can emit on the internet without being in person, and even then it is limited. Only in Christ we can so deeply, and fully known. But maybe for a moment, we can view our human struggle for acceptance as a beautiful thing. It points to our need. Maybe rather than feeling envy, emptiness or judgement towards one another, we can look at our imperfectness and the flawed humans around us and see what a beautiful thing it is to merely live, breathe and wake up to a new day. Know that I see beauty in your life, regardless of how we differ, and honestly more so because of our differences. Although I can never know all of you as I’d like, (just imagine how exhausting that would be!) please take in this one thing – count me in as one of the people that sees you as more than your curated squares and statuses, even if that is how you wish to be seen. You are more than that, and so am I.