Annal 107: Tale from the Sculpture

I can remember once coming up with a description of my appearance that while sounding somewhat self-deprecating I felt was quite true.  I figured that God is this sculptor and sometimes He creates these sculptures that are universally accepted as beautiful.  You just can't deny it.  And sometimes you get a me--what I would classify as an experiment.  "Hmm... what would happen if I combined a wide nose with flaring nostrils with wavy blond hair?  And then gave her this medium bone structure and short waist?  Now I could give her big boobs to offset this kind of build, but why would I do that?  But I'll give her some decent looking calves."

I'm sure this isn't exactly what God was saying when He formed me--although it could be!

I hadn't thought of this for a long time.  And then this afternoon it came back to me.  I had met a friend downtown for coffee and was walking home.  The sun was setting, there was a nip air, and I thought it was just the most beautiful of evenings. 

A little while ago I had referenced Oscar Wilde in a Facebook status and his take that beauty is determined by the critic.  A friend had asked me about my view on this.

For whatever reason I was mulling this over on my sunset walk home.  Is beauty subjective?  Are we the ones who determine whether something is beautiful?  If we determine something is not lovely, does that mean it's not lovely?

So while thinking this over I remembered my view of me as an experimental sculpture.  And suddenly some pieces began to fall into place.

I've described several times how I will go for walks and feel like I am remembering something I have never quite known.  But there is another sense I have had over the last few months.  And it has been about myself.  I've been gradually realizing who I am and hitting a point where I have felt comfortable in my own skin.  As if I have been remembering a beauty I never quite knew.

My take on the subjectivity of beauty is that everything is beautiful.  But each of us appreciates different aspects of it.  I find the stark bareness of the tundra beautiful.  A brooding, overcast sky is breath-taking.  I love snow.  But not everyone finds that beautiful.  Does that mean it isn't beautiful?  In my 20 questions blog one question asked if I preferred Norman Rockwell or Picasso.  I said Rockwell.  Does that mean that Picasso isn't beautiful?  Who am I to determine what is beautiful and what is not?  But I know that I appreciate different things, and find beauty in some things that others do not.

I began to apply this to myself.  I know I am not the sculpture that everyone looks at and agrees is the epitome of beautiful.  But does that mean I am not beautiful?

For so long all I wanted was affirmation.  I longed for others to tell me I was beautiful.  But I think God has been slowly teaching me that I can't do that.  I have begun to realize that I do have a beauty.  Maybe it is not a universal beauty, but that doesn't mean I don't possess a beauty.

It makes me sad that it has taken so long for me to realize this.  I think of the years I spent leading youth and young adults, telling girls that they were beautiful and that their beauty was not determined by what people did or didn't say to them.  But I never got it myself.

Until this afternoon.

I don't think I have ever met a woman who didn't suffer with bouts of low self-esteem.  And I wish with all my heart that they could realize what I realized this afternoon.  That they could know that they are beautiful.  And while they may feel, like me, that they are more of an experimentation sculpture, that does not for one second mean they are not beautiful.  Maybe not everyone appreciates the art that is them.  But that does not determine their beauty.  Their beauty is there.  They have a grand Sculptor who looks at them with pride.  And there will be those who appreciate their beauty.  But that does not determine it.

Such is the life of a Christian single.