I’ve said before that God has used motherhood to draw me to Him. I believe He continues to use this vocation of mine to work in my life. At the risk of sounding all holier than thou, I’d like to share a weird shift in perspective that I’ve recently been experiencing.
Motherhood and my desire that my own children be seen as persons and not images or objects or body parts or irredeemable villains or cogs in anyone’s wheel is changing how I look at other people.
There are these images in the news, entertainment and advertising of “sexy” people, but what I’m seeing is someone’s child. That young woman on the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue is somebody’s little girl. That “hunk” of an actor is some mother’s son. I’ve always believed that, but now I’m really beginning to see it – involuntarily, though not unwillingly. It sort of ruins any fantasy I might once have indulged.
It’s not just my view of sexy that’s changing either. The crazy guy and the scary disenfranchised teenager? Once they were babies with a world of potential. Mingled with my fear of these people is something like sadness or compassion. Regret maybe.
Men and and women might be handsome or pretty or crazy or scary and a long list of other things, but that is not all they are and they are not mere images upon which I can apply my own ideas.