See Yourself as Beautifully Made
If I asked you to observe the brightly colored leaves of an ancient oak tree in autumn, what would you describe? How would you illustrate the sensation of grass under your bare feet, or the rush of a light breeze as it jostles your hair? And if you could picture the perfect day, what would yours be?
My perfect day is almost exactly like today. It’s one of the last warm days in late October before we hunker down for another cold Ohio winter. I lay in a pile of carefully folded blankets in a popular spot at my favorite park. The sounds of wildlife and human activity are the perfect backdrop for my writing session. Runners with dogs whirl past. Families take fall photos within the foliage. Children and toddlers scream and laugh as they roll downhill into massive leaf piles. All while the sun shines hot on our faces before intermittently hiding behind a cumulous cloud as it floats east.
Evergreens stand tall and fragrant, like they’re whispering goodbye to their deciduous friends who are dropping their leaves for hibernation. The leaves flutter and fall, pillowing like confetti in each gust of wind, bringing with them a delicious crunch and the sweet smell of decaying earth.
As I absorb these heavenly sensations, I can’t deny that they are, in fact, heavenly. It stirs in my memory a recent conversation with Chloe about how God is the ultimate creator: the first and best artist from which we draw all inspiration. With nature's astounding artistry around me, I can’t help but feel incredibly joyful, grateful, and beautiful.
Every landscape, plant, animal, and insect here was designed by God. The shape of every leaf on every tree. The color and organization of each petal on millions of flowers. And each unique, special human. You and me.
When I consider how thoughtfully and wonderfully made our planet is, how could I ever feel unworthy? Is it possible—logical, even—that amidst every awe-inspiring part of nature, I could be the only one I consider ugly? Incorrectly shaped or sized? Improperly colored, ill-planned, or unworthy of being here?
A feeling of regret grows in my chest. There are too many instances to count where I've let the world and others make me feel inadequate. So many days when I went about my life dissatisfied with my stature, intelligence, or personality. I especially think of my body and all it does for me, how it nourishes and cares for me—yet I so easily degrade it and compare it to other bodies, wishing it were different.
I recline and let my limbs sink into the plush grass, still vibrant and full before the first frost. My toes gently grip the woven cotton folds beneath me and the sun warms my upturned face. I take this moment to remind myself of something that I often forget: I am created in God’s image. Therefore, I am beautiful. Therefore, I am worthy. I am created in God’s image, and just like these plants and animals, I was made to trust myself. And I was also made with an intrinsic intelligence of how to navigate this life.
Like how the squirrels don’t constantly falter, questioning how to find and bury acorns for winter. Or how the trees don’t second-guess their ability to change color. As humans, we’re equally programmed with the instinct of how to live, survive, and love.
A brother and sister, maybe five and three years old, giggle and play tag a little way from me. Their laughter distracts my train of thought, and I hear the sister exclaim, “How are you so fast?!” as her brother soars past her. They’re both laughing and smiling in that carefree way we all remember from childhood. As a bystander, I feel blessed to have witnessed a glimpse of what will likely be a core happy memory for these two little people. Their zest for life is the kind of joy I wish other adults and I were confident to regularly show.
These children remind me that God has programmed us to experience joy and love, but every so often, we let our humanness get in the way. When we’re little, we laugh, love, and dance openly. We ask questions and are never concerned if they’re “stupid.” We accept ourselves and our bodies so much that we proudly stick out our full bellies in happiness, not embarrassment. We cry freely and show raw feelings for better or worse. And we aren’t afraid to vocalize when we have a need.
If we could somehow get back to that—to being connected with God and love and self-trust—how would our adult lives change? Would we be less judgmental of ourselves and others? And would we stop hating ourselves like we do? Would we instead see ourselves in the light and glory and purposeful image in which we were created?
Could we drop perfectionism? Could we love others more deeply, knowing that they, too, are here for a reason and beautifully made just like us?
When I become a mother one day, that is my hope. To bring new souls into the world who know their worthiness, radiance, and value. Not because I or any other human said so. But because their God-given presence on this magnificent planet confirms it.
This is an excerpt from my new memoir and personal growth book, A Wandering Path, available now on Amazon and at select indie bookstores.
About the Author
Anna Isabel Garrison is an author, businesswoman, and creative on a mission to find beauty in the common things of life. As a self-proclaimed “recovering perfectionist,” she writes about slowing down, reconnecting with nature, and loving the self. She invites you to follow her writing journey as she prepares to share her upcoming book, A Wandering Path, in April 2024. You can walk alongside her healing journey on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and TikTok (@annaisabelgarrisonauthor).