to the girl in the mirror...

                                          

I walked up and looked her straight in her hazel brown eyes. They looked fearful, not at all confident like the girl she wanted to be. 

Her clothing was sharply contrasting. Blacks, greys  and whites. 

She was tall, thin and had long blonde hair. 

She looked back at me. Tired, uncomfortable and fearful. She looked tired. Like the one place she wanted to be was miles away. She looked lonely. Like the people she so longed to be with where in a place she might never go back too. 

With that observation, I opened my mouth and started to scolded her. "You're not brave, strong, or anything like who people want you to be. You're just annoying, loud, random, ugly and stupid.  You're not really anything. You're not beautiful, you're not talented and you aren't anything special. You're nothing more then a  living flop." 

As I spat out that last syllable, I stepped away from the mirror. 

Not words I had been called. 

No, people called me beautiful, talented, gifted even. 

But the names I called her... Ruthless at best. 

I don't think she's happy with where she is at this juncture. She wants to be something else. She wants to be like the Disney princesses and heroic women she's read so much about. 

The girl in the mirror needs to know something. That she's beautiful. Not because I say so, but because one greater then her created her so. 

The girl in the mirror needs to know that she's a priceless treasure. Not just because I say so, but because the one who died for her says so. 

The girl who is looking back at you from the mirror needs to know that she's worth more then what she thinks she is. That her worth doesn't come from a size on the back of her jeans or from her relationship status on Facebook. 

Her worth comes from a God who has cattle on a thousand hills and streets made of gold. 

Lastly, that girl in the mirror needs to know that she's loved. Loved and cherished by the One who loved her so much that He laid down his life for her. Loved by the one who paints the sunrise and loved by the one who has her future planned. 

As I told her those things, her hazel eyes filled with tears. 

Her brain fought the truths that had been given to her. 

The girl in your mirror might not like the names you call her. 

Let her know she's beautiful and loved. Not because I say so but because the one who formed her out of the dust made her so. 

In Christ Alone,

Rachel Joy