This was supposed to be a post about finding peace.

That was before a couple of people who seem devoted to disturbing my peace pulled their usual loud conversation to make sure that any peace I was feeling at the moment was incredibly short-lived.

That was also before I found out the full weight of what was going on with both my children.

All before I was due to take a much needed week off.  A week that was supposed to be comprised mostly of rest, with a few errands, a little binge-watching, and a great deal of cooking thrown in.

While all of that did actually happen, I also managed to get in a desperately needed week of prayer and introspection. Honestly, I absolutely needed the time off.  I was beyond exhausted: mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  After moving from one high-stress environment to another (different type of stress, but still), and everything going on outside of work, I was hurtling rapidly towards complete burnout.Ten days off might not seem like  a lot, but I took what I could get, and endeavored to get as much rest, and perspective, as I could in the allotted time.  I think it was productive.

One of the first things set on my spirit was the phrase "For all of his knowledge, He has not wisdom".  After racking my brain, and searching the internet, I found out that it was a bastardized version of a Lord of the Rings quote.  Looked at in the context of my prayer life, however, I understood it to mean that while we tend to prize intelligence, we also need to take a closer look at whether or not wisdom is gained to go along with that intelligence.  As it pertains to a certain situation that I am dealing with, I have come to the realization that intelligence and wisdom need to go hand in hand; wisdom is intelligence refined by experience.  Intelligence without the wisdom to use it correctly can make for some incredibly cold, unfeeling people, who in turn can create difficult and uncomfortable situations for anyone that has to deal with them.

Somewhere in the middle of that train of thought, I suddenly found myself thinking about the novel, The Catcher in the Rye.  What struck me most was the protagonist, Holden's, vision of someone hiding in a field of rye, waiting to catch people before they unknowingly went over a cliff.

After spending a good two hours wondering how all of those notions were connected, it finally occurred to me that faith was both at the intersection of knowledge and wisdom, and if you look closely, surrounding both concepts. If that sounds confusing, think of it like this: Faith can be the lens through which we view the experiences that move us from mere knowledge to wisdom. When both knowledge and wisdom fail us, as they sometimes do, and emotion takes over, Faith (in the form of prayer and meditation) can also be that catcher in the rye, waiting to catch us before we throw ourselves off cliffs of irrational thoughts and actions.  Where knowledge and wisdom propel you forward, faith steadies your journey, and sometimes, lights your way.

It was in this notion, that where my knowledge of how to deal with people and situations, and what I had hoped was hard earned wisdom for dealing with difficulty began to fail me, and my emotions were ready to take over and send me running toward a cliff taking me I don't know where, my faith was there to catch me, and remind to stop to consider the results of hauling myself over emotional cliffs.

My situations are not likely to change anytime soon.  But I do feel a little more at peace in dealing with them, knowing that in the midst of it all, I can stop and center myself using all of the tools that I have developed over the years to keep myself on track.  

Or at least keep myself from going over the cliff.

Paraphrasing another quote, Of these three remain: Knowledge, Wisdom, and Faith.  The greatest of these is faith.

Like most teen girls, my daughter is a master of the selfie.

​No reservations, only a little self conscious, and the only thing she needs is a phone.  Whose phone doesn't matter.

This past Sunday found her skimming through the gallery on my phone, looking for pics she had taken of herself at various times in the past few months.  As she scrolled, I came across a picture I had taken of myself while I was trying to figure out the camera on my new phone.


"Wow.  That's actually a good picture of me! I kinda like that one!"

Then like a scolding mother, a teen voice reprimands me from the passenger seat of my car:

"What did I say about talking about yourself like that?"

Like most adults, I have what I consider a self-deprecating sense of humor.  Unlike most adults, I have a rather bad history of people reminding me of what I am not, and my daughter has unfortunately borne more witness than I am comfortable with of people that should know better denigrating me both in my presence, and behind my back.  So she is especially sensitive to any level of negative self talk that I engage in. There is a precedent for this.

About 3 1/2 years ago, I wrote in this space about my struggle with my physical appearance: ​http://www.houseofperpetualdistraction.com/thoughts-feelings-impressions-blog/1  For the most part, I thought I had made peace with the fact that some people will always treat me in a pretty cold fashion, if only because they do not find me what is popularly considered attractive.  I was also aware, if only peripherally, that I was not alone in what I experienced.

A few days prior to the car conversation, I had run across an article that sent me back to an older Reddit thread about what life was like for ugly women: www.reddit.com/r/AskWomen/comments/24ddtl/what_is_life_like_for_an_unattractive_woman/

I have rarely felt such kinship, with so many other women, about such similar experiences.  We are the people who are either completely ignored during group conversations, or loudly derided for daring to speak up.  If we are not being thoroughly overlooked, we are being thoroughly looked over for whatever offending flaws (I was recently told while walking down the street, completely lost in my own thoughts, that "My ugly ass needed to smile more.") random passerby feel the deep need to point out to us. Male friends and acquaintances, although they may howl with laughter when talking with us privately (and only privately) do not dare to be seen walking down the street with us, lest they be seen by anyone they know in the company of someone not thought to be sufficiently attractive.  I have lost count of the number of times I thought I was walking somewhere with a male friend, only to have them either trotting a mile ahead of me, or walking just far enough behind me to give me the appearance of walking alone, and making any friendly conversation all but impossible.

One more time, for the people in the cheap seats:  Having been called ugly, in some way, shape or form, every day since I started Kindergarten at 4 years old, I am WELL aware of how you feel about my appearance.  There is no way I could not know.  Your attitude and behavior have spoken way louder than the words some of you are too discreet to say to my face anymore.  Note: I said SOME of you.  I never know whether or not my day will be a quiet one, or one when I will have to deal with yet another "opinion" being shouted at me as fact.  And no amount of well meaning friends telling me that they think I am beautiful is going to erase 40 years plus of treatment that is still ongoing to this day.  Maybe, one day, we will all truly be free from the grip of popular, societal standards of who we are supposed to be, or at least emulate, but that is a long way off.

So we come to this past Sunday in the car.  This is the picture in discussion:

As I am reprimanded, and rightfully so, by my daughter, I am also reminded that my daughter doesn't define me by the same terms that the world does.  She doesn't see me as fat, or ugly, or any number of shorthand terms for not enough.

She just sees me as Mom.  Sometimes annoying, sometimes wonderful, sometimes just getting the two of us through the day, but just Mom.  She is looking to me to give her clues as to how to relate to, and navigate the larger world around her.

This is where I need to learn to balance the way I respond to the way I know the world sees me with the image I project for my daughter's sake.  I do not believe that I am hideous.  Different, definitely.  The popular term nowadays is "unconventional". I do keep up my appearance on some level: I love my dreadlocks, I buy clothing that I feel flatters me, and that I find comfortable, and I smile and am friendly to those I know.  I also make quite a few jokes, sometimes at my own expense.  I have to watch that tendency.  Because my daughter doesn't see it as self-deprecating humor.  She sees it as putting myself down before someone else does it for me.  She doesn't like it, and let's me know without hesitation if that's what she feels I am doing.

Let me pause here to say that I think my daughter is gorgeous.  I know all mothers say that about their children, but both comments made to me, and comments overheard, bear this out.  What I have tried to teach her about her genetic blessings, as it were, is to keep it all in perspective.  That fact that she is beautiful is great, but it is also the least important thing about her.  To be intelligent, kind to others, and overall, a person of good character that can be respected, is something that will always stick with you in life.

But I know the world turns on physical appearances, and "in it but not of it" is not going to help us here.  We still have to function in a world of people who are not of the same mind, heart or spirit as we are, and those people can sometimes be quite cruel.

What I am learning from my daughter is actually her taking to heart and putting into practice what I have always told her: do NOT allow anyone else's definition of you to override how you feel about yourself.  I figured that I should start teaching that lesson from Day One, rather than have her learn it later in life like I did.  I have to come to admire my daughter's strength and confidence, and hope that life doesn't dull that sparkle still glimmering in her eyes.

What I hope to teach her, is that even if the world is still determined to try to find more interesting and clever ways to try to pull you down using some random way that you are unacceptable, try to retain your strength in what you know about yourself, and what God knows about you, and has put on your spirit.

My ultimate wish, and prayer, for my daughter is expressed in a song released in 2005 by Gospel artist Kirk Franklin.  I loved the song long before the sign language ministry with which she performs added the song to their repertoire.  It deals with, among other things, learning to see yourself the way God sees you, and loving yourself accordingly.  I can't possibly wish for more than that level of self acceptance and love.  For her or me.​