A part of my testimony

Here's a part of my testimony from a christian convention camp this year:

There were so many moments that I couldn’t help, but cry to. I have always been the kind of person who does not cry in front of other people because I have an image to keep up, until I knew God. The day before, Pastor Jon informed the leaders that he was going to give the girls a talk about their image, and I knew it was coming. It was something I’ve heard over and over, but it never got through to me because I never had a reason to believe in it. However, the moment Pastor Jon said to the girls that maybe our fathers never told us we are beautiful, but we are all beautiful in our Father of Heaven’s eyes; I broke down. My heart felt like it was swelling, and I couldn’t breathe. My parents never told me I was beautiful. Instead, I felt that they were ashamed of me. And I became ashamed of myself.

In my middle school years, I used to tape up my face so that when I look in the mirror, I don’t have to see myself; I used to cut my hair with a knife so that I’d get lots of layers and it’d hide my face; I used to hide in my room in the summertime so that no one will see me; I used cover up my face with clown makeup so I’d feel like I can be someone else. In high school, when people told me I was pretty, I felt embarrassed; when boys liked me, I felt I was unworthy of their attention. I’d make faces so that people cannot tell me I’m naturally ugly; I’d be silent so that no one notices me; the list goes on and on.

What hurt me the most was when my parents did not stand up for me. I’d have times where strangers walk up to me and tell me I’m ugly, and I should do something about it. Relatives would tell me that no man wants an ugly girl like me. And my parents just stood to the side. What was I suppose to do, right?  What could I say? I had no control over how I look. There were times I was sad God didn’t give me the physical beauty that everyone else got. And then I’d feel guilty because that thought was selfish. I tried not to let those things get to me, but slowly, the years and years of criticisms got to me, and it was like a flower that had too much rain; I was so hurt I thought I was going to die. So I did the only thing I could, I emptied myself so that I can not feel anything, pain nor happiness.

Right before I was baptized, Pastor Jon prayed for me and told me again, that my Father says I’m beautiful; that I am a princess and I am worthy of every man’s attention. So of course I got emotional and cried. When I got out of the water, I felt peaceful. My Father told me I am beautiful and not only was my sins erased, people’s mean remarks were washed away. I was so excited and so overjoyed. I couldn’t wait to be alive; I couldn’t wait to meet people; I was no longer shy of myself. My Father told me I am beautiful.

I didn’t even mean to join the pageant at all, the non-prank pageant. But when I saw that no girl was going up, a voice within me whispered, “Go go go!” I had fun, lots of fun. I loved acting the part. But within me, another voice asked, “Why are you up here? You are nothing compare to the girls next to you.” And when it came down to the last two contestants, the voice continued on, “She is so beautiful. She has every quality of a beautiful girl. Everyone likes her, no one knows you. She deserves it.” I kept on smiling, but I was silently starting to die on the inside. The voice was right. I did not belong where I was.

That pageant was nothing. It really was nothing. It was just a little fun ice breaker. When it was over, it was over. But to me, it was my breath of life from God telling me, “You are beautiful. Go tell the world.” I needed that.

Afterward, someone said to me that I should not have won. And for the first time ever in my life, I stood up for myself, “Why? Is it because I am not beautiful enough to you?” And he was silent. It was nothing, it really was nothing.

Except that the next day, at a speaking event, I stood up in front of a big crowd of people, and I told them how beautiful I am. I am beautiful because of how gracefully I stand up after every rainfall that happens; I am beautiful because of how elegantly I step over every stone in my life; I am beautiful because of how I laugh when I should be having a breakdown; I am beautiful because of how easily I can smile to strangers so that they’d have a good day; I am beautiful because of the sacrifices I make, to make people happy; no one else may see this, and no one else may know why I am beyond beautiful, but God sees and He knows. That is all I need. After that speech, a whole lot more opportunities were opened up for me to speak at, because my Father was next to me and I believed him.

I am not trying to brag about myself. Maybe I don’t physically have something everyone else has, but my heart lacks nothing. To call me ugly, or to call someone else ugly, or to call you ugly, would be to call God ugly, because I, you, we, were made in his image. Notice how the word ugly is said in the Hmong language? Exactly. And God is not that.