The other day, my friend and co-worker Diane asked what time I was headed to the break room for lunch.
"About 1:00."
"Take a look."
There was a hand-made card taped to the top of the box.
"Read it, girl!"
"What is this?"
"Just read it!" Rebecah chimed in.
"Open the box!"
Diane knows my insecurities with my face - my history with my skin. She knows about my recent visit to the surgeon and how deflated I was when he spoke with me about making a huge difference with my skin. She also read my post about wishing someone would invent a talking mirror - where the mirror would provide positive affirmations.
"Oh, my God, this is awesome!"
"After reading your post about wanting a talking mirror, I remembered [her daughter] Toni had one when she was little. So I found one on EBay and got this for you."
More tears.
"I've never seen anything like this. This is amazing."
After hugs and thank yous, I walked back to my office, still in awe of the thoughtfulness of my friend - just wanting me to see myself as she does - as others do. It made me wonder if we all need little reminders from time to time to see ourselves how we really are, past our flaws, to the core of our hearts.
"About 1:00."
"Cool, maybe I'll meet you for a bit."
It was a nice surprise to have Diane sit with me and my regular lunch date, Rebecah, as she rarely leaves her desk.
After heating our leftovers in the microwave, Rebecah and I sat and Diane joined us shortly thereafter. She was carrying a large shopping bag with a box inside. Diane's daughter is heading off to college soon, so I assumed she was carrying a gift for her.
Lunch rolled along, and I thought nothing of Diane putting her box on the table.
"Oh, what'd you get?"
"Take a look."
"Did you make this?"
There was a hand-made card taped to the top of the box.
"Read it, girl!"
I could see Rebecah smiling in agreement and suddenly realized Diane was giving something to me.
"What is this?"
"Just read it!" Rebecah chimed in.
I opened up the card:
"I want you to see yourself for what you are, beautiful on the inside and out."I started to connect the dots with the photo of a hand-mirror on the box and her card.
I knew there was a mirror inside, but I couldn't open the box right away - and I couldn't hold back. My hands covered my face and I just started crying.
Diane knows my insecurities with my face - my history with my skin. She knows about my recent visit to the surgeon and how deflated I was when he spoke with me about making a huge difference with my skin. She also read my post about wishing someone would invent a talking mirror - where the mirror would provide positive affirmations.
Isn't it beeeeeutiful? |
After wiping my eyeliner clean, I opened the box. Not only was my gift a mirror - it was a beautiful, pretty-in-pink, Disney Princess Magic Talking Mirror! Diane pressed a pink button as I held up the mirror and a little voice told me how beautiful I was. We all started laughing.
"Oh, my God, this is awesome!"
"After reading your post about wanting a talking mirror, I remembered [her daughter] Toni had one when she was little. So I found one on EBay and got this for you."
More tears.
"I've never seen anything like this. This is amazing."
After hugs and thank yous, I walked back to my office, still in awe of the thoughtfulness of my friend - just wanting me to see myself as she does - as others do. It made me wonder if we all need little reminders from time to time to see ourselves how we really are, past our flaws, to the core of our hearts.
One of my closest friends has a scar around on her right temple, next to her eye. I've never known her to be anything but beautiful - made up or fresh faced. She radiates beauty from within, and although I do see her scar, it's part of who she is, and I don't see anything ugly about it.
This is what you call a Light Bulb Moment.
The fact Diane went to such lengths to tell me I am beautiful - scars and all, made me think about how I feel about my friend with her scar. It also reminded me to think about my own flaws that way.
Sometimes lessons come in the most creative ways.