Let your light shine through

In my last post, I talked about the image that I saw in myself.  I mentioned that throughout H.S. I dated guys because it boosted my self-esteem, but only to have it crushed when I would realized that I still was not good enough to be seen by the ones that I wanted to look at me.
I simply was not made to be beautiful.

After High School graduation, my folks moved on to a new house in a new state, and I was forced to follow.  I had never even traveled this far north before and now, everything I had worked for (my reputation, my friends, my hangouts, my job..) it was all taken away.  I was starting over again.  I was starting fresh.  And after the summer was over, I would start college. 

If it wasn't soccer, then pool was my game.  Not swimming, billiards.  I knew that if I could find a pool hall in this town then I could make some new friends (aka. dates to fuel my self-esteem again).  I was used to getting guy's attention, in an environment where I was the only female available. 
Naturally, I would go in alone.  I would scan the room for prospects and then would proceed to start playing a game - solo.   It wouldn't take long before I would have a partner for the next game.  I looked at them like they were suckers, paying for my games, my drinks, my attention, my FUN...but down deep inside, past my stubborn pride, I knew who the real sucker would be.  Because without fail there was always that one guy that I would spot, and immediately I would know that he was much too good for me.  Even if he wasn't marriage material, his looks said that he would never even second glance at me.   That pool hall in Illinois was the first to break that rule.  And I quickly found myself in too deep before I knew it was happening. 
The physical attraction was so intense that all my virtues of waiting for marriage, was quickly being forgotten.  What would hold me back in the end, was my own insecurities.  I was still afraid that something about my body would turn him off of me. 

Jesse was one of those special guys.  I still have fond memories of him.  He was just as confused as I was, but in a whole nother way.  Jesse was a self-confessed sex addict.  I wasn't really sure what that meant when he told me, but I knew that I must be just another set of legs to him.  When I wasn't working the late shift, I would tell my parents that I was, and then sneak off to see Jesse.  I was afraid of him, and afraid of me, but I also wanted to indulge and push the limits a little bit.  Jesse was what people might call "cut" he had the pretty face to match the muscles too.  And I knew by the way he talked, that I was just one of many women that had noticed his beautiful body.  That fact left me feeling insecure, even in our flimsy dating relationship that we were in.  I wanted more from him.  I wanted to be special to him. 

Jesse wasn't a Christian.  Far from it, in fact.  When I told him that I was going to a Christian college, he asked me if I was going to be a nun. (uh...no.)  My connection with God was still a very high priority, and although my selfish desires had clouded my good intentions; I still really wanted to share my faith with Jesse.  We talked in depth about his search for a higher power.  I could tell that he longed for something more to this life.  Even with the sheltered view that he had of the world, he knew that without something good, all that's left is the bad.  He was searching for God.  He told me that he was waiting for a "sign" to believe.  Sadly, I had to say good-bye and go to school.  Jesse had decided to join the Job Corp.  I had hoped that I would be that "sign" he was looking for.  Instead, we went our separate ways sad and slightly annoyed with one another because of the faith based coversations. 

I was in the middle of my second semester sophomore year, when I got an unexpected letter delivered to me.  It was Jesse.  He had called my parents house to get my address. I was shocked and very excited to hear from him, especially knowing to what great lengths he went to get in touch with me.  "You must have made a lasting impression with me," he said.  With every word I read, all I could think of, was he couldn't be talking about me, because I'm nothing special.  But then I knew what it was that made him believe that I was.  Unfortunately, there's nothing that I could quote from Jesse's letter to would show you what I can see when I read it.  But through all the recorded memories and by the way he spoke about our last moments together I can tell, I was special to him.  I was special in the same way that music is to a deaf person, or touch to a blind person.  I allowed him to feel the one thing that he'd been missing. 
I began to slowly piece it all together lately.  It was something I had forgotten.  Amongst all the diet planning and workout scheduling throughout my year, I had missed the point again.  In fact, I drive myself crazy when I try to live up to my standards of beautiful.
 I can't make myself beautiful.  I can't make myself special to anyone. 
But God can.
And when I allow His light to shine through, He does.

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(Fun Fact: I am fascinated by the meanings behind names.  I looked up the meaning of "Jesse"- you should try it. Tell me what you find.  That is his real name by-the-way.)