Do you still see me?

Do you still see me?: "

I asked Mr. Nielson with tears
in my eyes if he could still see me.

He was shocked at the question and slightly confused. But he answered anyway; he said he didn’t compare me to anything especially my appearance before the accident.

Maybe he doesn’t, but I do.

Sometimes I actually scare myself.

Yesterday at the grocery store a woman turned around to me in the
line and with an exhausted look she blurted out:
“Oh, I feel just the way you look!!”

I wanted to curl up and cry in the fetal position right there in isle three. I looked away and tears stung my eyes. I wasn’t prepared to have confirmed to me what I had felt earlier that morning after I had scrubbed my fragile body in the shower until it bled.

Part of the deal I chose, I guess.

I guess I should just suck it up and remember my blessings.

But part of me hurts for outward beauty.

When I lie in my bed as still as can be, I feel like the Stephanie before. Out my eyes I feel just the same. I feel perfect. My skin isn’t strained and my joints don’t rip my thin skin over and over with each movement.

That’s why getting up is hard to do.

I had another perfect moment today as I lay on my couch.
The sky was a lovely shade of blue. My weeping willow’s leaves glowed bright yellow and it moved so slowly and graceful in the autumn wind.

I was so quiet.

I was so still.

And the Lord was talking to me. He was whispering to me his love for me. He was proud of me and I felt my blessings restored to me. He is so real. He is there. He sees so much more than we do. He is the light and truth and anything that is good that I have, is of Him.

And then, I felt beautiful.

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