Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

If God makes all our faces, did he laugh when he made me? Does he make the legs that cannot walk and eyes that cannot see? Does he curl the hair upon my head ‘til it rebels in wild defiance? Does he close the ears of the deaf man to make him more reliant? Is the way I look coincidence or just a twist of fate? If he made me this way, is it okay, to blame him for the things I hate? For the flaws that seem to worsen every time I see a mirror, For the ugliness I see in me, for the loathing and the fear. Does he sculpt us for his pleasure, for a reason I can’t see? If God makes all our faces, did he laugh when he made me?

“Think about it. There isn’t heartache if there hasn’t been joy. I wouldn’t feel loss if there hadn’t been love. You couldn’t take my pain away without removing Bailey from my heart. I would rather have this pain now than never have known him. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.”