Beauty is not a fantasy.

YOU are BEAUTIFUL.

The words slip past.  Quiet on the breeze.  They are for another, and needless I push them away.  YOU are beautiful.  Ignored, they fade, silent in the whisper.  You are BEAUTIFUL!  I pay no head.  And like a shooting star, their sparks fall to nothing.

Then a hand cups under my chin.  "Can you hear me?  Will you listen?  You ARE beautiful!  Nothing I have created is without value or purpose, everything I have created is beautiful.  Will you see it?"  

Shamed I hide my face.  Ridiculous and foolish every unattractive person I have ever noticed, flashed through my mind.  I think, point proved. 

"EVERYTHING I have created is beautiful.  Who are you to judge it's worth."

Scolded I want to retreat, but I am held in the hand of my King.  There is nowhere to run, my soul is simply bare.  My wickedness is all I see.  I can feel every bit of me cringe against his compelling grip.  I am not worth this, don't deserve it.  I want to shout that I am UGLY!  I am without VALUE!  I am WORTHLESS!

But it echoes through me, EVERYTHING I have created is beautiful, has value, has purpose.   

Then I know it is a lie that I have believed.  It has twisted in me.  It has grown it's roots around my beliefs, my thoughts, my dreams.  It has blinded and demented me.  It has placed itself into my water source and it has been drinking in deep, greedy gulps, the sweet spring that was made for me.  It has left poison, for me to suck through the cracks in myself.  Death has encompassed me.  Spinning it's evil into every thought, pass by the mirror, pursuit of a goal, it has held me captive.  I have allowed it to grow.  I have pampered it, nourished it, and sacrificed for it, thinking it was a part of me, that it WAS me.  

As he holds me and his gaze grips, I feel my eyes begin to open, begin to see.  

I am Beautiful.

I have purpose.

I have destiny.

I have value.

"I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.

My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.  And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them."  Psalm 139:14-16

No matter the opening that I allowed, the realization that I have believed such a debilitating lie staggers me.  When you can see clearly, you become responsible for the truth.  

And with a victory CRY I take my AX to it's roots, until I have pulled forth every sulfurous pit, that the sweet springs of life might once more flow through me.  

I am drunk in his love, in his intimacy, as the crevices of my thoughts and beliefs are filled with the water of truth.

I stand, no longer running, shamed, or afraid.  Simply open.  Looking clearly through the beauty that he has made.  All darkness, stains, wickedness wash away, leaving His flawless creation.  Made by the hands of my master, my KING.  

"I am my beloveds and he is mine!" 

Song of Solomon 2:16

His eyes twinkle and his hand slips around me as he pulls me into his embrace.  "My daughter, my love! Happy the day I formed you!  Joyous as I saw whom you would be!  You are my delight, my great pleasure."  

His presence fills me and I marvel at his great love and mercy.  That my Lord would lead me through each moment of darkness of pain, to reveal that his creation is great.  It is beautiful.  That I am his.

I am BEAUTIFUL.  And the shout resounds that all my see and know.  

EVERYTHING He has created is BEAUTIFUL.  Has PURPOSE.  Holds VALUE.

ReFinished.

Well, I did it.  I finished it.

I started what I expected to be a simple project of refinishing my dining room table and six chairs.  Only to find myself in the midst of tears, soul searching, ridiculous frustration, and life altering chaos.  You could say that therapy for me, is a paintbrush in hand.

Previously I didn't consider myself to be a perfectionist, until ever glob of paint that refused to stick had me cursing in frustration.  After 18 hours, my online scouring convinced me that I was using the wrong primer and should sand off the two coats already applied and go with an oil base.  In hindsight, I would have been fine with the latex.  More cursing as I realized this now 25 hours in.  I think they may laugh at me at the paint store.

I was told countless times that I should just throw the whole thing away.  There were points in this that I wanted to consider that an option.  Maybe just setting the whole thing on fire.  hmm.

Apparently I do not handle things well when they don't go my way.

I did not toss it, burn it, or destroy it.  I sanded, wiped, primed, painted, distressed, sealed, stapled, cut, padded, finished.

I'd say I'm about 100 hours in.  For those of you who do this, I'm sure I did a million things wrong.  However, I learned a lot as well.  I'm happy to say that I persevered and it felt good.

It took me a year to complete this project.  I may be a little insane, but I'm getting ready to start my next little task.

I love working on furniture.  I love refinishing.  I love watching something horrible become beautiful.  I think I may have caught a bug.

More than that I love proving to myself that I can finish what I begin.  That I am faithful.

Who knew there was so much to learn from wood and paint.  :)

Technically there are still two chairs left to finish, but the pads are on, I'm just waiting for more oilcloth.  There was a moment that I was going to cover the chairs in burlap, but after a day watching my kids exist, we switched to the easily cleaned oil cloth.

Happiness is, not using a table cloth every day.