Quest for beauty

Guess what I spent the afternoon doing? The afternoon following the morning that stung? The afternoon where a King Soopers van pulled up in front of my house: a woman got out and handed me a beautiful vase of fresh flowers from my buddy Lynette.

I schlepped into the back yard and picked up poop. Caleb sure makes a lot of waste during the winter months. So much, the yard was innavigable.

Take a look at both pictures. Can you tell them apart?

Alrighty, I'll give you that the pack of poo doesn't have curly hair...

My iPod plugged into my ears, I knelt down with a plastic shopping bag over my hand, and began cleaning up the mess. Ear buds popped out every three and a half minutes (any body know how to make them stay in, or do I have weird ears?).

In some sort of sick way, I realized what I was doing was a meraphor of my life. I was doing to my yard, what Jesus wants to do to me. Clean up the crap in my soul.

One bag filled before I was half way through the yard. I started on another. The bag over my hand grew thin and opened up in a few places. I thought about changing to a new one, then decided not to. Jesus wouldn't. In fact, he doesn't even use a baggie for picking up my shitaki mushrooms. He's not afraid of my stinky, smelly mess. He loves my mess. He thinks I'm beautiful and talented. To him, I'm the daughter of THE King who's been out in the yard all winter with no one to help her clean up after herself.

Then I really went whack-a-doodle on myself. I ran into the house and grabbed my Nikon D50. Very few pictures of me exist. 99.9% of the time I'm on the backside of the camera. I've always hated the way I look. I still do, to some lesser degree...

I began torking my arm, extending it away from me and shooting myself from a myriad of angles. At the time, I had no idea why - then it struck me. I was on a quest for beauty.

God doesn't create anything ugly (oooh - Kyle's in the toilet again! Gotta get him.)

Dang, the kid knows how to use door knobs. Gotta get me some of those covers that you have to squeeze...

Back on topic - If God doesn't create UGLY, and I'm one of HIS creations - made in HIS image, then I have to be beautiful, right? okay, don't answer that one

I found facing the brilliant light of the sun is my best facing. The warm rays wash away the worry lines that prematurely carve across my forehead. It obliterates the dark circles that usually lurk under my eyes.

I was listening to Women of Faith. My loopy brain can't remember the title, but it was a familiar hymn with a modernized tag inserted in the middle. The lyrics said we have to die to ourselves in order to truly live. I froze with a petrified dog-log in my right hand. Die. To. Myself.

I'm dying. God's helping me die, not to destroy me, but to bring that abundant life He promises.

Dying sucks. The crap stinks. Jesus ain't scared of no Darcie poo. But I can't wait to experience what it's like to really, and truly live. (sorry about the adverbs, my copy/line-editing friends) ;)