There are some lines in Scripture that sound especially quiet – but that is precisely why they touch most deeply. This is one of them. My favorite. Simple, almost accusing, but at the same time – full of sadness. It speaks of people who can admire everything in the world – from the stars to the trees, from the symmetry of the face to the color of the eyes – and yet still fail to see the hand of Him who created it all.

I often think about this when I look in the mirror.

Not to admire (to be honest, I couldn’t see anything particularly beautiful in myself for a long time), but to try to understand why we, women, so stubbornly seek approval from the outside, forgetting that it already exists — and it is eternal. Why do we need to hear: “You are beautiful” to feel alive? Why do we believe the look of a stranger more often than the words of God, who calls us “very good” back in the first chapter of Genesis?

I am not one of those “cover girls”. Not one of those whose beauty fits into the algorithms of social networks or selections of “ideal facial features”. I have unusual features. A mix of cultures in my face. There is something carved in my appearance — not quite smooth, but certainly not boring. And for a long time I thought that being “different” was a loss.

And then one day at confession the priest said
“You understand that beauty is not how you look, but how you shine?”

And I felt a pang inside. Because I always intuitively felt: true beauty is not in the features, but in the look. Not in the curves of the body, but in the peace of the soul. In the ability to enjoy the sun, in the patience to listen to others, in honesty before God and yourself.

And I began to learn to see myself through the eyes of the Creator. Not through the lens of advertising or someone else's taste, but through the prism of greatness and design. After all, if I believe that God created the stars and mountains and oceans - and found it necessary to create me too - then I am not an accident. This means that my appearance is also a sermon. Maybe not for everyone - but for those who know how to look closely.

Now I increasingly ask in prayer not for someone to love my appearance, but for me to not forget Who created it. So that I remember: I am not a set of features, but a reflection of the Face.

I would like my future husband - if the Lord gives me one - to see this too. So that he admires not only the form, but also the idea. So that he looks at me not only with the eyes of a man, but also with the eyes of a believer. So that he understands that in love, not only passion is important, but also respect for the plan of God, who brought us together.

I know that beauty is not a trophy or a mask. It is a testimony. It is something that is given to us not for demonstration, but for service. So that through us someone could guess, at least for a second, how great is the One who came up with all this.

And maybe my future husband will be one of those few who read between the lines. Who, admiring, will not stop at the external, but will go deeper. Who will say, “You are beautiful because you are from God,” - and then I will understand for sure: it is from Him.

In the meantime, I live in this feeling of light. Not always confident, but always real. I am learning to love not only the face, but also the heart. I am learning to be beautiful not for the likes, but for the gratitude. After all, everything beautiful in this world is just a weak echo of the Creator's greatness.

And if you read this and something resonates in you, know that you are already a part of this light. You already carry a reflection of the Creator within you. And maybe we don't always see it in each other right away. But if you look closely, if you don't rush, you can see a lot.

And perhaps someone with whom you won't be afraid to meet the dawn. Or sunset. Or eternity.

Lana Banana