When I was working full time there were days I shot out of the house so quickly I forgot to look in the mirror. It never failed that I caught a glimpse of my unkempt hair or an inside-out shirt at some point during the day. Oops.
While mirrors are a necessary evil, I wonder if we didn’t have them, would we all feel more confident in our daily lives? As I have said before, when I leave the house my brain tells me I’m 21 and really hot. If I feel good, I think I look good no matter what.
Once again, that image is shattered by merely walking by a plate glass window and catching a reflection of — “Oh, my goodness, who is that old lady?”
“Wow, I’m starting to look like my mother.”
Don’t get me wrong, I have three mirrors in my house to assist me in looking my best every day. But mirrors are tricky as we all learned from Disney’s Snow White.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
Well, in my mind, it’s never been me.
I’m told we never see ourselves as others see us and I’m finding this to be so true these days of chronic illness. Many things in my heart and mind have changed since the first day when the doctor said, “It’s Stage IIIc lung cancer.”
Thus began a physical and spiritual unintended make-over.
My make-over reflects differently with each encounter with my mirrors.
MIRROR #1
This mirror is a full-length mirror probably purchased at a big box store. It’s mounted on the inside of our ample closet located in the only bedroom in the house. The door is flanked by long rows of clothes. There are too many clothes to wear out in my lifetime. Opposite the mirror, shelves lined with shoes and accessories.
This inexpensive mirror does give you an idea of how you look when selecting matching tops and bottoms, shoes and bags. The quality of the image lacks sharpness. The lighting is not too bright. But it works in finding the right silhouette for the occasion.
MIRROR #2
This mirror is cruel. When looking for the fairest of the land, I would not use the bathroom mirror for advice. Naturally, the lights on either side of this mirror are extremely bright. Nothing is masked in front of this mirror. It folds so you can inspect three or more angles of your face and shoulders. Every imperfection is magnified.
Looking in this mirror reminds me daily of my situation. Weight loss from cancer treatment has amplified the wrinkles on my face and neck. My once-toned arms are no longer strong, but crepey. The sun has noticeably tanned my face and arms unintentionally.
There’s a prominent access port on my left side. Three dots mark the needle’s target when administering chemo, dyes and such during scans and infusions. A small tube runs from the port over my collarbone and directly into a vein leading to my heart. A consent reminder that it’s not over yet.
And while I’m waiting for the next poke I notice the highlights in my ever-thinning hair are turning grayer every day.
MIRROR #3
This mirror has been deemed the magic mirror. It’s only long enough for me to see from head to about my waist. It is part of an antique vanity belonging to a bedroom set we bought at my parent’s auction. My Uncle Ed admired the bird’s eye maple constructed in such a way that the center of the drawers in the dresser reflected the grain of the wood from the center out.
Because this set came from my parent’s house, it reminds me of pleasant growing-up days. It’s magic because my reflection always looks good. I always look good in this mirror. It’s confidence building. I think it’s the quality of the glass placed more than likely in the 1930s.
Sure, there are smaller mirrors around the house for decorative purposes, but that’s it for the main ones, except for a new mirror in my life.
You.
Without exception, everywhere I go, everyone I meet, friends or otherwise, I hear these words…
“You look amazing.” Sometimes these people repeat it more than once like it’s unbelievable. “You have been through so much.”
The compliments are overwhelming— especially for someone who grew up not hearing too many compliments on how I looked.
I never know what to say. Sometimes, I say, “I wonder what I looked like before cancer.” Sometimes, “Thank you.” And, sometimes I say, “What am I supposed to look like?”
It’s something I can’t wrap my head around. I have this disease and because of this disease, I am suddenly beautiful, confident and always leaving the house dressed as best as I can. It doesn’t make sense that in my situation, I look so good.
1 Corinthians 13:12 says, “Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”
We believe that someday, everything in our life will be revealed with the perfection with which it was created. Because of you, today, I can see myself a little clearer and more confident because the fourth mirror is you. Everyone’s positivity, love, support and prayers are reflected in your faces, heard in your voice and read in your comments. You have shown me the best of me.
This Thanksgiving season, I’m so grateful for all of you sharing my journey, and helping me to see myself in the way God must see me, as beautiful as the sunshine He provides for us daily.
INDYchildrendotme 
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