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Lipstick marks on coffee cup lids.


This is one of those posts where I'm riskilly honest.  The kind where I don't sound politically correct but I hope you'll hear me out.  Where I admit things I'm not proud of.
Ready?  Okay. 
I used to ABHOR lipstick marks on coffee mug lids (as can be seen in photo below).  There, I said it.


Now the funny thing to me is that the cup with the lipstick marks on the lid that you see in the picture belongs to none other than yours truly.  So let me explain.  

I used to be the girl who subconsciously thought she was better because she didn't need lipstick to feel pretty or 3 coats of mascara just to leave the house.  I was proud to only wear a little bit of makeup (or none at all) and still feel like I looked like my normal, averagely pretty self.  When other girls talked about needing to reapply lipgloss or eyeliner, (especially in front of guys) I made it a point to not be lumped into their shallow activity and went out of my way to make it apparent that my beauty was Au Naturale.

I wasn't a tomboy, and I didn't dislike all makeup, just the kind that could portray me as a poseur.

And that was the root of the matter.  I was so concerned with not being a big phony that I looked down my non-powdered nose on others for something I wasn't caught up in.
(If you don't wear much or any makeup, please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you should start or that you have the same mindset as I once did toward it.  I'm just telling you my story.)

And then I started a job I never EVER saw myself working- a sales representative for a makeup company.  
And my perspective slowly started to change.  

I got to know the people behind the counters with the contoured faces and the fake eyelashes and the deceptively large lips.  I learned about their families and sisters and parents and pets and vacation plans.  We were together in the mornings before we filled our eyebrows in or primed our faces.  I listened to their hopeful stories of moving to bigger cities and told them I was sorry when the plans fell through.  I was bored alongside them and busy alongside them and we suffered low sales and the busy season.  I pulled tissues when they came back from very bad family vacations.  I got excited to ask them to help me and my bridesmaids with our makeup for my wedding.

I also got to know the women who wander into the beauty stores, sometimes striking quite a resemblance with the people we see in those journalistic pictures, waiting to receive dehydrated food from Unicef.  
I saw the scars and the birthmarks and the discolorations.  I handed them tissues when something inside them broke and they couldn't keep the tears from brimming over their freshly lined eye rims.  I met the lady who went through 3 surgeries and came out alive after a battle with brain cancer, which was only discovered because her husband beat her so badly that her brain was exposed.  I've heard the words "you made my day" more than once in a single day.

Those lipstick marks on cups don't disgust me anymore.
They remind me of my friends, these people I've grown to have a love for.
They remind me of the beautiful work He has already done in some of their hearts and lives.
They remind me of some of the most genuine and sweet people I know, some of who are still very hurt and lost and aimless.
This might sound dramatic, but seeing those lipstick marks actually moves my spirit and almost gives me goose bumps because I know that God knew what He was doing when he put me where he did.  When He plopped me down, smack dab in the middle of a makeup counter with gloss on my lips and a brush belt around my hips.
When I see those lipstick marks on cups, I can't help but be moved by the love that the Lord has put into my heart for my co-workers.
Those bright red lip prints serve as a reminder of how bad the Lord wants them to know the love He has for these women with the electric red lips and contoured cheekbones.


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