Daily, more like moment by moment, I choose not to feel sorry for
myself. To my rational thinking self, that's always seemed like a
waste of time and what little energy I have most days. (I mean
internal energy). But people have said it so often lately that I
am beginning to feel like there must be something about me that I am
missing.
And so, I actually made myself sit in front of my
bathroom mirror a few minutes ago, trying to figure it out. Here
is what I saw:
I just got my hair cut, so it is well shaped, if not
recently combed. There's too much depth in my eyes for them to
ever be completely free of shadows, but you have to know they're there
to see them and take more time than most people have ever given me if
to even stop to wonder why they're there. But that's true for
every human; and shadows do not always mean sorrow. They are very
dry usually, and one tends to "wander" a little, but they do their job
well enough.
There's nothing extraordinary about my nose, it's
probably Italian. There's a little too much facial hair for my
liking, that's probably Italian, too, but it's not glaringly obvious at
this moment. There's nothing extraordinary about my ears, on the
outside anyway. They do hear extremely well. Well shaped
chin. Lips are kind of dry as usual lately, and one is bigger
than the other; but again, that's pretty universally normal; and
they're often smiling, saying something, or singing anyway. The
caregivers often praise the fact that I obviously never needed braces
on my teeth, and I'm very thankful for a working tounge.
All in all, it's a pretty likable face, decorated
with my own original eyebrows, bushy as they are, and no makeup, mostly
because no one has ever in my life had or taken the time to apply a
daily beauty regime. Thank God that I have never yet desperately
needed one. My cheeks have just a little natural color
usually. I guess one can say that I'm literally an "egghead," but
that also is normal for us people who were inpatient to enter the
world. (Later, we sometimes wonder what our hurry was, but that's
beside the point. :-).
My shoulders, neck legs, and back are only slightly,
but noticeably, bent; and they do hurt sometimes, but that is par for
the course for most "permanently seated" folks. I am generally
satisfied with my overall body shape, though I am pretty short.
And I'm wearing a cool color combination today; black and
burgundy. My feet are tiny, but I don't use them in the customary
way for long stretches of time, so it doesn't really matter.
My arms are weak by most standards; but strong
enough to hold precious people and necessary things. My hands are
slightly "deformed," but I can still fold them in prayer and raise them
in praise. I can move my chair around well enough to dance.
I can hold a pencil to sign my name, legibly. I can hold another
hand, and quarters for ice cream and hot chocolate. I can feed
myself apple slices, chicken pieces, and even dilly bars, when
necessary. I can turn pages. I can insert CDs into my
player and push buttons. What more does one need "normal" hands
for?
My chair is cool, it gets me around well; and it has tiny rainbows within the paint.
So, it must not be anything external that people see
and pity. It is something internal? It's true that if the
mirror was an imaging scanner, I would most likely see brain damage in
my head, but none of what makes me Amber is in that area.
Daily, doing God's best in me, I strive to be His
Eyes. Using them, I see in me a strong person, a survivor with
many gifts yet to be given and received, loved beyond comprehension by
her Father.
People that pity me, I really pity you! You
are missing so much if you don't see that the above statement applies
to more than just me. Every life is value full. If you
don't see that, your world is a cold place, and I wouldn't choose to
live in it even if I could have the strength of Sampson if I did!
~Amber~