We don’t like all the choices we made. One of mine was the facial reconstruction. After this operation I wasn’t the same person as before and looked with different eyes at myself.
Was this because of a wrong choice? Or was it because I thought that the opinion of fellow Christians was equivalent to the view of Dad?
The opinions and the piercing questions brought shame.
“Why aren’t you satisfied with yourself?
Why are you not satisfied with the fact that God made you beautiful, as Psalm 139 says?
Why do you defy God’s beautiful creation?
These comments where like a poison in my life. They brought shame in a situation where God had given me peace about. But the poison kept seeping through my heart.
The mirror was a terror. I didn’t dare to say that I was ‘loved, beautiful made and precious’, because somewhere I believed that that was a lie. I had changed God’s marvelous creation? I doubted God by choosing this?
The topic “operation” was a door I kept on lockdown. It caused me that nervous feeling. I didn’t talked much about it even though I was in eextremephysical pain. The chronical pain that was caused by the operation was something I caused by myself.
The moments you are standing the next morning – after an intense Saturday – in the church and you pastor is saying: “We are here together to exalt God. Come and lift our voices!” And your voice is broken. Your passion is singing, but your voice is too weak to sing.
Friends didn’t (and still find it hard) to understand why I quit talking after a busy afternoon why I locked myself down. They didn’t knew the medicines that were taken in despair and the effects of it.
You heard about healing and silently I hoped that when God was in a gracious mood, He would heal me. But in my head there was still that voice: “You don’t deserve this.”
Because what if…. What if He was upset by this decision? What if this was a sentence I needed to carry on my own?
Dad was standing behind me, but didn’t push. He had placed His hand on my back and stood beside me. Nothing to say, but eyes filled with tears. Holy Spirit whispered in my heart: “Ask Him… Ask about His opinion.”
“Dad?” I said sobbing en I stepped aside to give Him space in the situation. He walked in front of me and lifted my chin. The chin stuffed with screws from the operation.
“I love you! I love you so much!”
He was silent for a brief moment. But He continued with a glimmer in His eyes.
“Do you know what…. I even like you! I like you very much! In my eyes you are perfect, without any spot or wrinkle. And can I tell you something more? I am not angry about you! I like you and will always like you! You’re beautiful from head to toe, my dear love, beautiful beyond compare, absolutely flawless.
I led the hands of the surgeon. I gave Him my spirit of excellence and when you woke up I said: ‘It is very good!’ But the peace I gave to you was robbed, because people didn’t handled that vulnerable heart well. I was cheering next to you: ‘I like you! I find you beautiful!’ The wall you raised high by the opinions, caused me to stay outside your heart. But I am glad and honored that you are letting me in again.”
And now? I need to say that I am still learning to look into the mirror and to accept my face, to accept the part that God likes me the way I was and the way I am.
When I look now to both pictures, I say: “The Silvana I was then, is from the inside and outside made more beautiful by the heavenly Surgeon!”