Tainted Reflection

There is a mirror in our foyer that is probably a hundred years old. It is starting to darken in one corner and there are dark imperfections and scratches throughout. I love it as much as the other old things in this house that we live in and every week I wash off the tiny finger prints. It cleans up but not very well. All of the vinegar in the world could not wash away the damage made over time.

This week I came across a video posted on Facebook of Steve Harvey introducing Jesus Christ as if he were about to appear in his show. In the end, Steve, if I may call him by his first name, is visibly emotional as he states that God has been so good. It moved me and just like everyone else on Facebook moved by something I felt the need to re post. I hesitated because I knew not all of my “friends” on Facebook share my faith. What the hell? Personal integrity, here we go!

In response, a friend asked me why it is assumed that God is a man. I responded that you would have to ask Steve Harvey.

I try not to assume anything anymore. I used to believe that after meeting someone new that I could tell within minutes whether we would be friends or not. I used to believe that my heart was safe in the hands of Christians. I used to believe that a Christian president would lead our country in the right directions. Wrong on all accounts.

I have spent the past year developing friendships that I never expected. I have learned that people are so multifaceted that you could never know enough about them in a couple of minutes to determine who they are and the value they could potentially bring to your life. Although, I have Christian friends and family who have guarded and protected me my entire life, I have also had Christian friends and family who have literally tried to destroy me. I won’t even comment on my last example. I still hope that it’s a little true.

I believe that there is a loving God that created us all and I live my life attempting to be a reflection of his grace. The catch is I am flawed. His reflection is distorted in me. My concept of God is probably not even close to what is true. I can’t seem to find the truth because there is a stack of suitcases piled on top of it. Not Louis Vuitton either. The luggage with broken zippers, duct tape and all the dirty laundry left over from a month long safari.

I have never considered replacing the mirror in our foyer. This home belonged to my husbands’ grandparents. His grandmother checked to see if her slip was showing in it and his grandfather straightened his tie on the way to Mass. That mirror, no matter how wrecked it is today, has seen our past and looks into our future.

I do hope that God still enjoys seeing himself in me.