Although I’ve always been an extremely motivated individual, as a youngster I admit I sometimes struggled with my self-esteem. In adolescence, I was targeted, because I was a dark-skinned, tall and skinny child. I was always taller than all the boys…and we know how a young girl would love that ( NOT).
The teasing was embarrassing. My allergies always gave me brownish red eyes, so I was taunted and called a ‘drug-addict.’ To my peers I was not one of the “pretty girls.” High School was fine, but I remember getting to college and a familiar feeling washing over me again. I was able to discern a female friend ‘discreetly’ asking another male friend to “rate” me on a scale of 1-10. His response? “I give her about a 5.” A few months later, I asked someone if that conversation was about me… dropping her head, she responded, “yes”. To my peers, I was still not one of the “pretty girls”.
But, for some reason beyond my understanding at the time, deep deep down in my core, I ALWAYS felt like I had the world at my fingertips and beauty was there. There was a sweet voice that would whisper to my mind and heart that I was an amazing beautiful young woman.
My mother is a woman who I consider to be the 8th World Wonder. EVERY single chance she had, she etched into the fiber of my soul growing up the scripture, Psalm 139:14, You ARE fearfully and wonderfully made AND marvelous are thy works, and my soul knoweth well.
Her devotion to my sister and I is unwavering. So no matter what anyone else’s outside opinions were, my mother gave me undeniable facts. As I started to develop spiritually, what others thought of me no longer mattered, because God had used her to set the foundation for who I really was, smart & beautiful. As I look back at my every accomplishment, mom was always standing or sitting right there. And the times I needed to be on my own to develop (like college), that sweet voice was always on my mental radio. I confidently stand in my beauty now.
I ask you this month…who’s voice is in your head? Who is feeding your spirit? You too are fearfully and wonderfully made; I don’t know a Champion that’s not. You are a woman making history… You are Champion Made!
So, as I celebrate the many… MANY women that have poured and continue to pour into me, I first honor my mother’s love.