The Best Loved Doll

When I was a kid, one of my favorite stories was called "The Best Loved Doll".  Its the story of a girl who gets invited to a party where prizes will be given for the oldest doll, the best-dressed doll, and the doll who can do the most things.  The girl looks through her collection of dolls - some beautiful, some elaborately dressed, some with many talents.  The competition is fierce and the suspense mounts as the girl looks over all of her dolls, trying to decide which one to take.  She finally decides on a raggedy, well worn doll whose rough appearance and tattered clothes impress no one but the girl.  This doll is the girl's favorite and best loved.

That doll is me - cracked and damaged, worn and ragged.  I have a lifetime of painful experiences that contribute to the wear and tear of every day life.  So much of me is broken, and parts of me are missing.   All around me are women more beautiful, thin, wonderfully dressed, perfect.  Sometimes, I see that I am a mess when I compare myself to them.  I see women training for marathons when it hurts me sometimes to walk because if a back issue.  I envy women in high heeled shoes and skinny jeans with precisely applied make up and flawless hair knowing heels aggravates my back, my fat jeans are tight, the cold sore on my face feels like Mt Vesuvius and the grays are overtaking the browns.   I hear of weddings and newborn babies realizing that, at this moment, it is just me.

Sometimes that stuff gets me down.  But, like the doll in the story, I know that no matter how I look or how broken I am, I am still loved.  I have the love of friends and family, of church and Father, Son & Holy Spirit.  And I know that if I am who I was created to be and live my life in the way I was created to live, I will be giving as well as receiving love.  Aches and pains, wrinkles and grays are a part of who I am.  And that's ok.  Because no matter what, I will always be the best loved me.