I met myself in the mirror with half an eyebrow on.
Oh, the joys of one main floor bathroom - with the best lighting - when a higher need arises.
For the record, eye brow brush is an easier pause than mascara. Mascara doesn't wait. Mascara means someone's either going to hold it, or share space with me and my mascara.
If that shocks you, you never grew up with one bathroom and six family members. Or one good bathroom and three kids.
And if my makeup requirement makes your eyes roll, too bad. Get in line... outside the door.
A master bathroom is still on my bucket list. But one recently remodeled main bath beats a bucket and no plumbing, so I mostly don't grumble.
Back to half an eyebrow...
Most of my life I've thought of my daily makeup ritual as putting on my face. I confess: I like the process. I like the colors. It's the only drawing and painting I do consistently. And I like those genetic, life-deepened, dark circles concealed, thank you very much. Tired on the inside is bad enough.
I like to look as put together as I choose on any given day. So, I put on my face.
But on too many days in this recent season of life, my philosophical inner dialogue takes the phrase and runs amok.
Putting on my face. The obvious metaphor can zing.
I spent years hiding behind my face. Painting on some pretty, adding a smile, and all is well with the well-worn facade. That's the downside of it... or perhaps just the mis-use. But it happens. As do the harsh accusations on those days when I need my best, but I'm all leaky eyes, smudged concealer, and liner that won't line. And irony hits as I watch myself persist. Broken must not win... on the outside. These days meet me in the mirror hissing, "What's the point of makeup - or your life? Why even try? You're just a fake!"
Nothing faintly pretty about that. Nasty gut punches aiming to negate the recent years I've spent working to live more honestly - with myself and others.
Today, however, as I finished filling in that thinned, blond brow and it's partner, added shell pink and warm gray to my eyelids, lined and coated invisible lashes into a "classic black" frame, then dusted my cheekbones with rose, I pondered a hidden strength in this ritual.
Vision-casting and choices.
I can see myself as hiding or I can see this as a time of creativity. Instead of facade, it can be a time for filling in the cracks left by fear, disappointment, exhaustion, and... life. Of outwardly hinting at the part of me that has or will find victory over these obstacles.
I am not wholly into the affirmation craze, but I do believe in speaking truth.
Truth is: I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I was created for divine purpose, even if I'm still knocking around in the dark over that one some days. I fail often, but I succeed, too. I don't want to get out of bed many days, but do it anyway. I'm afraid and anxious, but am learning to push back. I'm often overwhelmed by circumstances, but I find breath to do the next thing.
And in it all, my God sustains me.
He also knows my heart, my frailties, and loves me anyway.
So now, perhaps when I put on my face, I can look into those eyes that mirror my heart, my hurt, my longings, and imagine more than the moment... how I feel, or don't feel... the life I hope for, but don't have... the person I wish I was, but am still becoming.
Perhaps I can see all the lines and lacks of a life-worn face transformed to order, character, polish, confidence, and courage. Not hidden...
Adorned.
I can remember those who say they find beauty and value in the woman behind the face, despite her struggles. I can smile at her and choose to believe them.
This may seem just vanity, but today I reframed a part of my day - a part of myself - that I've often nipped at with cynicism, to my own harm.
Today, I put on my face,
eyebrows and all,
looked more deeply,
and came out of hiding.
What do you see when you meet yourself in the mirror?
eyebrows and all,
looked more deeply,
and came out of hiding.
What do you see when you meet yourself in the mirror?
* * * * *
Lest anyone take a tangent, let me clarify: I believe outer beauty is nothing without inner; that of the two, inner has the power to change what we truly see. And though we may never fully escape the vanity in outward beautification, it's not wrong to take something raw and try to add beauty. Created, we are inherently creative, and pride can flow equally in doing or not doing. Anything good can be taken to a bad end, but this doesn't mean we never strive for good or beauty. And my point goes beyond that anyway. We often think and say horrid things about ourselves and our lives, forgetting our Creator - the author of hope, faith, love, and beauty - who fashioned us for good, for purpose, for His glory. ... His words speak life.
