where waves grow sweet

Hi friends. I just posted yesterday, but something hit me last night that I can’t help but share today.

Chase and I have been reading the book Wonder each evening before bed. It is a fictional account of Auggie, a 5th grade kid with severe facial deformities who is foregoing homeschooling to attend school for the first time. His is the kind of face that shocks people when they see it for the first time and occasionally makes kids scream in terror. Because of the obvious self-consciousness arising from this perfect storm of genetic abnormalities, he had taken to wearing an astronaut helmet that was given to him by his sister’s friend. It hides his shame and gives him an empowering alter-ego. But the helmet was lost, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

Near the end of the book, after Auggie has experienced both the pain and beauty of putting his uncovered self out there and the resulting transformation and realization that he belongs, this conversation with his dad takes place:

“Good God, I hated that thing,” he laughed, almost more to himself.

“I was so bummed when it got lost,” I said.

“Oh, it didn’t get lost,” he answered casually. “I threw it out.”

“Wait. What?,” I said. I honestly didn’t think I heard him right.

“The day is beautiful, and so are you,” he was singing.

“Dad!” I said, turning the volume down.

“What?” he said.

“You threw it out?!”

He finally looked at my face and saw how mad I was. I couldn’t believe he was being so matter-of-fact about the whole thing. I mean, to me this was a major revelation, and he was acting like it was no big deal. 

“Auggie, I couldn’t stand seeing that thing cover your face anymore,” he said clumsily.

“Dad, I loved that helmet! It meant a lot to me! I was bummed beyond belief when it got lost – don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember, Auggie,” he said softly. “Ohh, Auggie, don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stand seeing you wear that thing on your head anymore, you know? I didn’t think it was good for you.” He was trying to look me in the eye, but I wouldn’t look at him.

“Come on, Auggie, please try to understand,” he continued, putting his hand under my chin and tilting my face toward him. “You were wearing that helmet all the time. And the real, real, real, real truth is: I missed seeing your face, Auggie. I know you don’t always love it, but you have to understand…. I love it. I love this face of yours, Auggie, completely and passionately. And it kind of broke my heart that you were always covering it up.”

As I read this aloud, my heart ached with the truth of it and my eyes welled up with tears, because just like Auggie, I needed to hear it. To know that my heavenly Dad looks at me with this kind of loving affection. Not because he feels sorry for me and wants to show pity. Or because there are parts of me he can find that aren’t so ugly. Or because someday I will get it right and turn into a beautiful swan, or at least become closer than I am now. But because he thinks I’m beautiful as I am. He loves to look at me and to be with me. Not in a tolerating kind of way but with delight. And it breaks his heart when I hide and reject who I am and refuse to look in his eyes.

I don’t know if you have felt weak, ugly and unworthy in some way, whether it be inside yourself or out, but I hope you too can receive this love note from heaven. You are worthy and acceptable and beloved and beautiful – not “if” or “when” – but right now, in the midst of your weakness and ugliness. Because your heavenly Dad, the creator of heaven and earth is saying, “I know you don’t always love yourself, but you have to understand… I love you. I love you, completely and passionately. And it breaks my heart when you hide.” 

So let us drop our walls and defenses and hiding spots. And all the judgments we’ve made against ourselves and the fear of rejection. And all the things we do to make ourselves acceptable. Let’s let him wash away the shame and renew our vision toward ourselves. Let’s let him love us. Because there’s nothing he wants more. And if our truest hearts could talk, they would say there’s nothing we want more either.