Reflections

It's a strange thing to think about being a mirror for others.

Whenever I hear the word "mirror," I can't help but start signing a little Justin Timberlake.

And JT is certainly on to something in his song, because he's not talking about physical reflections.

I recently read a book where the main character let little girls play with her hair one day, and she was in a village in Africa at the time where she had no access to a mirror. She didn't really care, though, and only became somewhat aware of the possibility of looking a bit ridiculous because her friend had jokingly said she looked like a "cartoon character" of sorts. But I really liked what the author said regarding how some people's perceptions of appearances might work.

"Katie wondered for a moment if part of the reason so many of the young women she knew who had poor self-esteem ended up that way because they spent their lives gazing at themselves in a mirror instead of being the mirror others gazed into."

Oftentimes when we look in mirrors, we tell ourselves we look like something we really don't. Our hair is never perfect enough, our clothes never look as good on us as on the mannequins on which we originally saw them, and blemishes stand out more to us than anyone else who happens to look at us that day. But what would things be like if we didn't put so much emphasis on the reflections that stare back at us? What if our imperfections weren't constantly being pointed out to us—by ourselves?

When I was a little girl, I was a really big tomboy. I played a lot of sports, wore athletic clothes, and I'm not sure I even knew how to brush my hair. I certainly didn't know anything about flatirons or curling irons, and I didn't care about them, either. It was a rare occasion to look in the mirror, because I was too young and carefree to be concerned with having an acceptable appearance.

Sometimes I wish things were that easy nowadays.

As most of us learn, as we get older the mirror starts to become more important to us. And it seems the world around us often encourages this: your car visor has a mirror so you can get one last glance at yourself before you get out and go to whatever your destination is; some apartments and homes have entire walls made of mirrors; workout facilities make it impossible for you not to see yourself; and smartphones even have apps that make it unnecessary for a person ever to have to worry about looking disheveled in public. I've even used portos with mirrors on the inside of the doors—because people clearly need to look their best before races.

I don't think it's wrong to look in the mirror, and I don't think it's bad to want to look presentable. But it's an interesting notion to be the mirror others gaze into.

Especially if we're trying to be reflections of Christ.

I realize this is more the reflections of our hearts rather than our appearances, but that's what it should be about, anyway. If people look at us and can't see beyond what's on the outside, then something's not right.

A few days ago, I was running late and frantically put my hair in a ponytail. When I got home later, I saw there was a huge bump in my hair—it honestly looked like I let a preschooler be my stylist for the day. I don't remember if I got any weird looks, because I wasn't even aware of how silly I looked. And, especially at that point, I didn't care. What difference did it make if someone thought my hair didn't look perfect?

There's nothing wrong with taking care of your appearance, and you aren't a bad person if you use mirrors. But, it's when those mirrors become so important in our lives that I think we lose focus on what reflections are most valuable.

So maybe instead of worrying about if your front pocket (or "frocket" as I've heard it called) looks uncool on your new shirt, you should be concerned with having a "pocket full of soul"—thanks for that one, JT.