Love is Beautiful

From my toddler years through my early teen years, I lived with my grandparents, Ray and Betty. I could write page upon page about what those years and their love meant to me. They were the glue that held my crazy and uncertain childhood together.

Looks-wise, there was nothing particularly remarkable about my Mom-Mom Betty. She had long wavy salt and pepper hair that she wore in a pony-tail every single day. She was mostly thin with nice curves (for a Mom-Mom). She wore polyester like nobody’s business. Polyester elastic waist pants pulled a little too high and polyester patterned blouses; picture the Mom from That 70’s Show. She wore bobo sneakers. Anyone know what bobo sneakers are? You know- the no-name brand tennis shoes that came from the Five and Dime. Many of her shirts had cigarette burns on them from her ashes left hanging on the end of her cigarette too long.  I always wondered what she was thinking about as she stood there dragging on her cigarette until a piece of ash would float away from the end of the cigarette. Was she imagining a different life? A life where she wasn’t a homemaker who had raised her children only to be raising her grandchild? Was she thinking about what could have been? Beyond teaching Sunday school, living in the country, cleaning people’s houses for a living and taking care of everyone but herself. She laughed but it never seemed to make it into her heart. I wonder if she was truly happy?

Mom-Mom’s beauty routines were brief. She wore bright red lipstick every single day. I loved watching her put it on in the mirror. She didn’t particularly admire herself. She just put it on in a matter of fact way and then went about her day. She also painted on her eyebrows and I found that fascinating. Every night she would take down her pony-tail and brush her hair again and again. I loved seeing her with her hair down. It made me think about what she must have looked like as a young woman. Mom-Mom had hyperextended elbows and knees. Except for her one knee that never recovered properly from an injury. When she stood with her hands on her hips, one leg would bend backwards like an ostrich and the other was slightly crooked.

While there was nothing particularly remarkable about my Mom-Mom Betty; to me, everything was remarkable. She was beautiful because I loved her and she loved me. It’s as simple as that, love is beautiful.  

There’s a song by Johnny Diaz called More Beautiful You and in it he writes “There could never be a more beautiful you. Don’t buy the lies, disguises and hoops they make you jump through. You were made to fill a purpose that only you can do. So there could never be a more beautiful you.”

When I think back now to those moments with my Mom-Mom, I realize what a valuable lesson she taught me about beauty and unconditional love. Because I was loved, I felt beautiful. I didn’t need to be perfect. I didn’t need to fit into a certain sized clothing or societal mold. We didn’t have much money and it didn’t matter. It’s the act of loving and being loved that is beautiful.

I was made to fill a purpose that only I could do. And so are you.

Love being loved. Love giving love. Love accepting love.

Love is beautiful.

Love being you. It’s one of the best gifts you can give to those around you.  

Ask for help. Make the choice. Commit to the choice. Continue with courage.

Hugs and friendship,

Tara