I passed a young man sitting on a wall on the Savannah waterfront. He was dressed in chef attire, those black and white, small-checkered pants, white shirt and a very interesting black and white hat. It looked like he was on a quick smoke break from his job at the nearby Hyatt Regency. We caught each other’s eyes and I smiled and said hello as I continued my brisk pace up the sidewalk and he said “you are beautiful.” Now let me clarify, he was probably in his 20’s, the age of my kids, and he was adorable, and his comment was not suggestive but matter of fact, frank and appreciative. I didn’t even slow my stride but waved a thank you in an embarrassed way. I felt like Jesus’ mother Mary “as she pondered all these things in her heart.” Today I continue to ponder. How many times will I have to hear that I am beautiful to believe it? I have been so blest lately with people telling me how beautiful I am, inside and out. I feel happy for sure, very happy, but I don’t look in the mirror and say, “you’re beautiful.” I only see the fat, the cellulite, the wrinkles, everything but….I don’t see beauty. Is anyone capable of seeing their own beauty? This young man had no ulterior motive, he didn’t expect me to stop and have a conversation, or go on a date. It was a gift, one that I need to give myself more often.
Does anyone walk around feeling beautiful? Nicole Kidman? Probably not, I bet she sees all her own faults too. What will it take for me to finally realize my beauty? Is this important? Or is it better not to know so that you don’t become vain. All I know is that I would like to feel beautiful all the time. When I hear it I am tickled and giddy, what a wonderful way to live life every day, in love with yourself. Without vanity, but just in adoration for what you were given, who you are. I walked away from this two second encounter feeling like I had a big secret. Someone thinks I’m beautiful in this world and that takes me closer to believing it myself.