Mysterious woman

Weathered eyes and a confident smile were the attributes I noticed as I glanced to my left. Heading towards the restroom I passed by the vanity where I saw her. She gracefully shifted her weight from one side to the other, changing the viewing points of her figure. Her hair flowed down over her shoulder. The stunning curls catching every glimmer of light, as if they sparkled. Freckles graced her nose and her lashes touched the top of her eye lids. With an intent look about her face she studied the bodies that pass by. I slowly walked towards her, wishing I was invisible. A smile gently arose from her lips as she examined her image in the mirror. She walked away satisfied.

Her impression left me with many questions. A thought crossed my mind, did she see herself as beautiful? Was she truly confident in her image? Her weathered eyes told me otherwise. They told me of a woman with many thought-filled nights, and many heavy experiences. Her smile was confident but not happy. Was she hiding her real face? No, because a face cannot hide from grief. O' how beautiful it is to see a real face. To see truth is to see God. Even in the midst of struggle, with a face filled with sadness and a posture telling of a broken heart, there is still a beauty that overwhelms the soul. In sadness you see humility, and in humility, grace from a beloved Father. This mysterious woman has been blessed with beauty, and in the same light, cursed be it.