Sparkly Stones

I appreciate the act of acceptance. Just makes you feel bigger than before, brighter than before, like you have something to give. When you encounter a funny tattoo on a girls leg, and soon enough her smile relates to yours and the tattoo is part of a unique story that becomes your own and acceptance happens. When the truth of his story is revealed and before you can say another word you know by the depth in his eyes that his past is another life which he hardly recognizes and acceptance happens. When you sit down and focus on the eccentric young woman across from you and learn that her heart is more eccentric than her funky dress and layers of jewelry and that she speaks 4 languages to teach mothers in Africa about health and survival and somehow acceptance happens. Somehow the stories behind the frames can mold our perspectives. So often I feel that our outward appearances are overlooked and sadly what is stirring in our hearts is masked by the makeup, jewelry, colorful dresses, shapely figures, mannerisms, hairdos, vocabularies, and other obvious outward actions. If we spent the time to listen to the stories, hopes, and dreams of each other wouldn't we be more accepting and less focused on the rules, regulations, appearances and whatever other specks we see in their eyes?

Once I had an admired mentor share with me a concern that perhaps my earrings would distract a conservative crowd from hearing my dream to build schools overseas, which would most likely turn away opportunities for funding. My heart sank. I became extremely self-conscious. I questioned the woman in the mirror, the person I had become. Maybe I wasn't good enough. Maybe if I changed my outer appearance then my heart would be pure, but I had already made the mistake. But maybe if I took out my earrings and let the holes fill in, then maybe I would be good enough to be a missionary.

After several days of weighing out the conversation I became even more hurt that someone could not love me for a small part of me. I'm sure that's not what my elder mentor had hoped to express, but what I took away from the conversation was devastating. I felt broken and unwanted. I do know that my heart is good, my motives are pure, I do have holes in my ears that I like to fill with sparkly stones, not because I am rebelling against a conservative generation, not because I am walking on the edge, or made a decision to be sinful. I wear them because I like the colors, I like the way they hold my hair back, I like that I can show off the talents of my friends who make them for me, I like that I feel pretty in them, like my smile is sparkling from ear to ear.

Shortly after piercing my ears when I turned 18 I had an acquaintance from work "jokingly" tell me that now I would be going to hell for having pierced my ears. I didn't think about it too much, but that voice comes rushing back so quickly in times like these.

If God asked us to be perfect before he could use us, He'd never get anything good done around here. I see a lot of good happening. I see a lot of good coming from imperfect people. I'm not perfect. Sometimes I get caught in the struggle of being perfect and forget that perfection is in the eye of the beholder. My beholder, Jesus, wants me now, the way I am. He's going to use me with earrings or not to carry out his plan for eternity. I am not perfect, but I am worthy of His love. He chose me and that's enough, however wonderful it would be to have everyone chose me and love me, not even Jesus was accepted like that when He was here. So I'll keep pursuing my dream and God will provide, whether opening or closing doors and hearts.