I stopped reading beauty magazines a long time ago when I realized they essentially insulted what I have come to know as symbols of a blessed life. So much of what the world considers a blemish exists as a direct result of the fruit of God's love. Many of my physical imperfections are such an honor:
My nearsightedness reveals the blessing of being instilled with a voracious love for learning, reading so much that my eyes had trouble keeping up with the demand.
My silver-streaked hair reveals the blessing of endurance to make it through tough, stressful circumstances.
My dry, patchy skin reveals the blessing of time and ability to work and play in the dirt and sunshine.
My crooked overbite reveals the blessing of being raised by parents who thought providing me with a full time mother was much more valuable than a second income that might have provided orthodontia.
My pock-marked face reveals the blessing of growing up with a close-knit, happy neighborhood of kids who shared everything - even their chicken pox.
and I could go on and on...
What about you?
