that girl

This is a very personal post. I promise to lighten it up tomorrow with Thrifty Thursday (great tips coming, by the way). 
Today, I am going to be very transparent. That's who I am. 
I am a closet introvert. You might never know it since I appear to never meet a stranger. I haven't always been like this. In school, I was the cheerleader and the athlete. I was in all sorts of clubs and was usually in charge of something. I didn't mind getting attention. I didn't go out of my way to get it, but it didn't bother me to be in front of a bleacher full of people screaming my head off and tumbling across the field until my head spun. Now, I prefer to be at home. I prefer to be alone. I cringe at the thought of going to parties or, basically, anywhere that involves being around lots of people. What changed? I ask myself that all the time. 
Look at the picture above. What do you see? Go ahead...scroll up, then back down.
I see someone who doesn't like to have her picture taken. Like, if I know a camera is coming out, I immediately need to "use the lady's room", or "need to pull something out of the oven". I see someone who cries when trying to find something to wear for church. I see someone who has put on a lot of weight since those cheerleading days. I see a big scar on my arm from a cooking accident. I see huge veins and puffy swollen hands. It is sad that when I see my own picture, I cringe. I delete almost every single one I can find. If something tragic happened to me, my kids would not have many photos or videos to remember me by. Ouch. It stings. 
Instead of seeing myself as overweight, scarred, tired, and grey-haired {oh yes, I said it}, what should I see? I should see strong arms and legs that carry children to bed when they fall asleep on the couch. I should see veins that are popping out because I have been working with my hands all day to make my house a home to my family. Instead of a bulging waistline, I should see a pretty little bow tied around the waist of a woman that carried and delivered 3 beautiful babies. I should see the beautiful apron that my grandmother made me with aging hands. I should see a wedding ring that I have had for 15 years from an amazing man that actually loves ME (grey hair and all). How does God feel when I judge myself against this world of lies, Photoshopped models, celebrities that lose all of their baby weight in 4 days, and every other unreasonable expectation that is thrust upon us every minute of every day. He would say to me, "Child of mine, you are beautiful. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You with the grey hair, and the muffin top, and the big frown lines. You are the real deal. Yes YOU!"
Friends, how do you see yourself? Do you struggle with seeing your own beauty like I do, or do you bask in God's beautiful creation? Do you struggle with the younger version of yourself and wonder where she went, or do you see that as just a long ago part of the journey? Do you wonder why your husband still looks at you like you are the 22-year-old girl he met with a tiny waist and an audacious personality? Do you wonder where she went, or do you still feel like that girl? 
I want to be that girl again. I want to see myself as The Father sees me. I want to see myself as my husband sees me. I'm no longer that 16-year-old, or that 22-year-old. I am that 38 year old. But, that 38 year old is still pretty cool. At least, that is what my kids say. Well, maybe "cool" isn't the exact word that they use, but whatever. I have 3 healthy kids, a husband who loves me (grey hair and all), a cozy home, and goats. Y'all I have the cutest goats.

Blessings to y'all. You are beautiful. You matter. You are loved. You are appreciated. Oh, and grab some tissues and watch this. 

Wasn't that awesome? Moms rock! Even with our dirty shirts, unwaxed brows, grey hair, and sweatpants, we rock!