Let’s give her freckles, they said. Let’s put her out on the playground with the other children so they can tease her. Let’s make her stand in front of the mirror and slather on a pound of concealer, and let’s make her attempts fail miserably.
That way, she’ll know the importance of empathy. That way, she’ll ask the bullied sixth-grader with buck teeth to sit with her at lunch and tell her college roommate with vitiligo how beautiful she looks. That way, she’ll grab her best friend when she hears her being fat-shamed by two guys at the bar and say, “Let’s get the hell outta this place.”
Let’s make her pregnancy test positive, they said. Let’s do it at the worst possible time. Let’s do it when her husband just lost his job and when she’s drowning in depression and insecurity.
That way, she’ll learn strength and selflessness. She’ll learn she can kick her ten-year smoking habit cold-turkey. She’ll learn she can survive on four hours of sleep. She’ll realize she can be happy living on boxed macaroni and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches until her next paycheck. She’ll look into her child’s eyes and finally understand the most important things in the world are giving and loving without expecting anything in return.
Let’s make her a teacher. Let’s give her a career where she’s overworked and underpaid, disrespected by the very people she’s earning pennies to help.
That way, she’ll see her purpose in life is to inspire, heal, and help struggling adolescents. She’ll see changing children’s lives is more important than a six-figure salary. She’ll see that the universe placed her exactly where she needed to go, even though she planned all her life for a different destination.
Let’s give her father cancer. Let’s let her feel guilty for not visiting him regularly. Let’s let her hate herself a little for ignoring the certainty of death and pretending the people she loves most will be around forever.
That way, she’ll learn the only people who matter are the ones who’ve always shown up. That way, she’ll make time for the ten-minute drive to see the first man who truly loved her. That way, she’ll focus on the fact that life isn’t forever, and she’ll make more drives — to her mother, to her sister, to all the people whose death would slice her heart to shreds.
Let’s give her wrinkles, they said. Let’s do it despite the fact she spends money on expensive creams hoping to return a youth that’s gone forever. Let’s let her grieve what she could have been and isn’t. Let’s let her remember she has a womb that will no longer give life and a marriage that will never sizzle the way it did when she first fell in love.
That way, she’ll figure it all out. She’ll begin to appreciate the wrinkles because it means her heart continues to beat when younger ones have stopped. She’ll recognize that everything the world told her was important was really a lie.
And she’s sitting there hoping you’ll understand sooner than she did that the pain is there for a reason, and the universe knows just what it’s doing.
*Opening quote by Bob Dylan
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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