From the Heart
There she stood, on the steps of the hospital where she had just given birth to a royal son, some seven hours before. That’s right SEVEN hours. Make up done like that of a celebrity hitting the red carpet. Hair styled as if she had just left the hair salon and not the delivery room. And she was wearing HIGH HEELS.
She is royalty. She is Kate.
I am not royalty. I am Janet.
Watching the news, I had a flashback of when I delivered my kids, some 40 and 36 years ago. Brandon and his broad shoulders arrived after a 32 hour back labor with no epidural. Emily arrived on her due date during what would have been the appointment time of my doctor visit. Still no epidural. There is a reason they call it LABOR.
I will refrain from the gory details of childbirth but I can tell you … it ain’t pretty.
Seven hours after the arrival of my descendants I looked nothing like the royal Kate. I looked more like death warmed over and set on a back burner. Upon leaving the hospital I had to send for my maternity pants to wear home. Elastic waistbands tightly hugged my waist for months after giving birth. Up at all hours of the night left me too exhausted to even think about make up.
High heels? No way. I simply waddled and shuffled my way around, wearing sneakers or whatever flats into which I could wrangle my swollen feet.
Those glamour shots of Kate Middleton got me to thinking. Her reality is not that of the women I know. Yet, the media causes most of us to doubt where we measure up. So we simply measure down … way down.
Every day we find women to whom we compare ourselves. The story behind their perceived perfection, we do not know. Yet, we think they always look that way. We think, I wish I had their life. Imagine the pressure they are under to look like they have it all together. It’s all about the look and what we perceive it to be.
Of course with Kate we know behind the doors of the hospital were doctors and nurses and a hair and makeup stylist, and a personal assistant. It took a staff of fixer uppers to put her all together to then walk out the doors of the hospital looking like she just left a royal gala rather than a birthing room.
As I have gotten older I realize that to compare myself to anyone is a waste of time and energy.
I have learned to accept my “I’ve had two kids” body. Gravity is a reality that cannot be nipped and tucked and botoxed and lasered and lyposuctioned by the average, over 50 something, woman.
I’ve learned that with wrinkles comes wisdom. I’ve learned that the best makeup trick is to LET GO of bitterness and anger. And yes, only my hairdresser knows for sure just how much gray she has washed and dyed out of my hair.
About 20 years ago I had a friend say to me, “Janet, I envy your life.” I was astounded. She had no idea what was behind the forced smile. You see, I somehow had joined the crisis of the month club. It was an effort to face each and every day. What I showed the world was not my reality. I had learned how to put on the “I’m ok” mask to face the world every day.
Recently, I’ve had people say to me, “It’s so nice to see you so happy.” I will tell you that happiness is the best makeup artist that there is. It does not come without a price. I know what sadness looks and feels like.
I know my someday has arrived. You know, where some things start to make sense, where the battle scars of life are stitched together to make a tapestry of beautiful colors.
I may seldom wear high heels. I may not look like I have it all together because I don’t. My battle scars are many. Life has refined my thinking. I look for the beauty in the soul of my friends. I look for the weary to give them a word of encouragement. You see, because of what I have gone through, I know what beautiful looks like in others.
A woman, refined by hurt and stolen dreams, will stand before those who love her well and tell them to never compare themselves to others. You have no idea what they are going through or what they have gone through.
We all simply survive. Some have survived better than others but every battle refines us. We arrive at beauty or we arrive at bitter. The look will be seen on our face and in our heart.
Happiness is never found in comparison but in gratitude.
None of us come out of life unscathed. We make good choices. We make bad choices. We battle unforeseen giants and obstacles.
Never measure your mistakes or your failures against your successes. Both bring you to who you are now. All are a part of the refining process. It brings you to who you were designed to be … YOU.
We may wipe a few tears. We may smile and shake our head remembering the strength we found when we could barely face the day.
There may never be a crown on our heads or high heels on our feet, but our smiles will be radiant. And they will be real, for all who have loved us well.
Our tapestry will be beautiful. It’s been woven over many years.