"Here are all our bathing suits, mom!" My daughter tossed a jumble of spandex on my bed before bolting downstairs. "Thanks, sweetie," I called after her. As I picked up each swimsuit and carefully packed it in our suitcase, I smiled, thinking how much fun my twin girls had picking out those suits in preparation for our beach vacation. It was a little different shopping for mine.
In 2014, when the girls were babies, I was just beginning to process the changes motherhood brought to my body. Navigating "Summer Fun for the Not-So-Slim" with two baby girls by my side. Now, I'm heading into my 10th summer with these girls. I'm in my mid-forties with a rapidly aging, changing body. My girls are pre-teens with rapidly maturing, changing bodies of their own. For the next ten years, we will walk these different yet parallel paths, aging and changing together. I pray we will walk these paths well.
I remember being their age and beginning to notice the changes in my body and others'. I remember hearing my peers gossip and snicker about each other's looks. I remember committing those comments to memory and holding those words up as questions when I dissected my reflection in the mirror. Was my hair frizzy like the girl they made fun of in PE? Did I have "thunder thighs" like the girl in front of me on the bus? Did my appearance measure up to their standards?
Everything and nothing has changed. I still notice the changes in my body and others'. I can still hear people gossip and snicker about how other people look, though now it's online or in magazines. No matter how hard I try, those words are embedded in my memory, and it takes considerable effort to not hold those words up as questions when I look in the mirror. Because if that is what they say about that gorgeous celebrity, what does that say about me?
I thought junior high was bad, but it is murder out here as an aging mom. Online algorithms target our biggest insecurities. My social feed is overflowing with ads for anti-aging serums, weight loss programs, and fitness challenges. The messages are clear. "Buy this product, take this supplement, try this workout, do whatever it takes to be young and thin and fit forever." We aren't supposed to look like we've aged a day or gained a single pound since high school. There can be no evidence that we birthed humans, didn't sleep for years, or that time keeps marching on. Youthful perfection is longed for, idolized, applauded, and anything less is a failure.
For ten summers, I've been buying bathing suits for the precious little girls that God knit together in my womb, watching my beautiful twins age and grow. For ten summers, I've been picking out my own bathing suits as their mom, clothing the body God knit in my mother's womb, watching my own body age… and grow. I've had to battle the lies spoken over me in my youth and those that surround me now. I've had to intentionally replace those lies with truth and pray that same truth over my little girls.
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” - Ephesians 2:10,
We are his handiwork. His workmanship. His Poiema (His poem). And he didn't create us to be ogled at. He didn't create us to be idolized on Instagram. He created us with a purpose. "To do good works." Works which He prepared in advance for us to do. While He knit me in my mother's womb, He had a plan for what I would do for His Kingdom, not what I would look like in a bathing suit. He had a plan for how I would serve The Body, not how I might maintain my "beach body." He did not make sure I lived up to cultural ideals of beauty but rather that I could share the beauty of my Savior. He created me to be salt and light, not hot and tight.
As I fold our bathing suits and pack our bags, I pray over our beach vacation.
Lord, guard my heart and mind. Help me to stay present with my family and rooted in Your truth. As I walk by, younger, tanner, fitter, thinner women help me flee from comparison. Give me eyes to see the diversity in Your creation. The beauty in every age, shape, and size. Give me eyes to see the story you are writing in each life. That their purpose, and mine, have nothing to do with how we look in our bathing suits and everything with Who we look to for our identity and worth.
Lord, guard my girls. Sustain their joy in their bodies and give me that same joy. Help us to be grateful for bodies that build sandcastles, splash in waves, and gather seashells. Guard my girls' hearts from the messages of this world, and let your truth take deep root in their minds and mine.
As I prepare to pack my own bathing suit, I smile, thinking about wearing it. I will wear this new suit with more freedom than last year, way more freedom than the year before that. When I tried on that suit for the first time, I looked at my aging, changing body in the mirror, and I felt good. Not because I looked "good" (whatever that means) but because life is good. I get to play with my kids on a beach for a week. That's pretty amazing. Life is good. I get to hold them in my arms, dig sandcastles, laugh, and splash in the waves with my babies. Thank you, Jesus, for this gift. This body is good.
My daughters run back into the room, and they catch me holding my new bathing suit. "Is that new? I haven't seen it. Can you show me?" As usual, they want me to try it on for them. My girls love a good fashion show. I quickly escape to the bathroom and change into the swimsuit so they can see. As I emerge, their joy fills the room. "Oh, mommy! I love it! You look so beautiful!" My heart swells with their words. The beauty they see is not as the world sees. The body they see is not sub-par or embarrassing. They know nothing of cellulite or wrinkles, stretch marks or flab, gray hairs, or varicose veins. They just see me. The real me. Their beloved mommy. Getting ready to spend a whole week with them on the beach. In a darn cute bathing suit.
With their words ringing in my ears and Ephesians 2:10 etched in my heart, I will not shy away or be ashamed this summer. I have a good body, made by a good God, so I'm going to have a good time. In Jesus' Name. As I zip the suitcases up, my daughters dance around in anticipation. "I can't wait to play on the beach with you, mommy. We are going to have so much fun." Yes, we are, sweetie. Yes, we are.
Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/Pollyana Ventura