Lovely

I’ve been stalking TJ Maxx and Homegoods for over a year now in hopes of grabbing just one Rae Dunn mug. Yes, I know it’s trendy and I hate trends. (Most trends. Not shiplap. But other trends, like Taylor Swift.) But something about the black and white simplicity and the words – I love words – calls my name. Also, they can easily hold two cups of black coffee. Just saying.

I’ve never had any luck, though, and I refused to pay the resale markup. But a few weeks ago, I stopped in TJ Maxx to buy James a Hawaiian shirt and stumbled onto a whole heap of the stuff. Again, I know that means the trend is waning. But there they were…all these Rae Dunn mugs.

The kids tried to coach me. Eli wanted me to choose “Laugh” because, frankly, they think I need to laugh more. (Darn kids with their honest observations.) Caleb suggested “Be Bold” because boldness was the word we chose when we dedicated him, and he was hoping to get the mug for himself. I personally was hovering over “Dreamer”, which seems so true to my spirit of hopefulness.

And then, at the other end of the aisle, I spotted “Lovely”. And it spoke to me. Actually, I’m beginning to think, God spoke to me.

I’ve never considered myself lovely. Not even my 22-year-old, 120-pound self. Even then, I would have labeled myself “good enough”. When I turned 40 and took stock of a disastrous marriage, more failures than I can count, a struggle with weight I’ve never carried before, thinning, greying hair, and too many other sagging things to mention, it hurt. Bad.

I’ve never been particularly occupied with fancy clothes. I’ve never been one to frequent the salon. (In part because I married a man who can’t hold down a job but thinks my spending is the reason we struggle financially, but still.) I'm not super obsessed with the external, so I honestly couldn’t figure out why my physical condition caused me so much pain.

As I’ve watched friends in stable marriages, and the way their husbands treat them, I’ve begun to realize that good love lets your body age with grace and compassion. Not perfect love. Just good love. When someone loves you that way, the other things matter a whole lot less.

Of course, my husband doesn’t love me that way. He doesn’t love me at all. Tonight, in an hour-long rant about how awful it is that he has to work because work is hard, he said he was really questioning whether I was worth it. He backpedaled quickly, but I already knew. Dude, actions speak WAY louder and your words just caught up for a minute there.

I’ve realized that I really do just want someone to think I’m lovely. To really believe it.

And while that someone doesn’t exist on earth, I’m beginning to suspect God wants me to know he thinks I’m lovely. And maybe that can be enough.

Every time I drink my (double) cup of coffee from that mug, I feel like God nudges me and says, “This is how I see you.” I can’t quite grasp it yet, but I’ve spent a lot of time pondering how my life and thoughts would be different if I could really see myself how God sees me.

Lovely.