Mirror, Mirror on Every Wall, Can you Tell me the Reason for them All?

It was the weirdest feeling to walk into my own house after being gone for so long. It didn’t feel like home. When you’re gone from a place long enough to stop identifying with it, blind spots become blatant facts. So many things I never noticed before I left now have me wondering, “Why did I not see this before?” One of the strangest things I discovered was my obsession with mirrors. I walked into my room and thought, ‘Wow, was I self-obsessed or something? There are a lot of mirrors in here.’

A mirror hung at a diamond angle over my bed, a large oblong mirror took center place as part of an old-fashioned glass vanity table. The one by the bathroom door hangs so low I can’t see my chin if I stand straight–have I really grown or did I hunch? Then there are the two tucked away in my ikea dresser cubby holes.

It’s took me two weeks to figure out this strange phenomenon. My first assumption didn’t fit at all. One glance at old pictures will tell you this girl was not a self-obsessed fashion diva teenager so concerned about her image. Frizzy hair fell in fluffy out of control brown waves over baggy garish colored tee-shirts which appeared to be a smaller size of her brother’s grocery store shirts and kaki cargo-pants, were part of my typical wardrobe.

Now, sitting in front of the vanity-desk mirror as I write this, I know the answer. How did an extrovert survive two years of self-motivated high school living at home with her parents maybe seeing friends once a week or twice a month? Mirrors! I became my own company. I entertained myself, with myself.

Mirror Entertainment: It all comes back to me now. Standing in front of the mirror by the bathroom door that linked my room with my brother’s, I messed with my hair in a replica of a middle school side ponytail and made hubristic stuck-up faces.

“Hi,” I said using a nasally high pitched voice and planting one hand on my hip for attitude, “What’s your name?”

To my 14-year-old mortification, a male voice answered from the other side of the door. “My name’s Joshua, what’s yours?”

I gave a little shriek and ran out of my room dropping the charade at the door. My brother came out of his room an impish laugh in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were in there!” I protested, the heat rising in my face.

“I know! That’s why I said something!” He said, his laughter completely unashamed.

Mirrors have brought me much entertainment over the years. They have allowed me to dance like Taylor Swift in “You Belong with Me,” and express my dramatic persona! Yet when I have people I don’t need any mirrors. A strange thing happens when I am away from mirrors for a long time.

Asian or American?: At one of our Church Youth Camps we didn’t have mirrors in the cabin. Surrounded by asian faces all day long I remember surprising myself when I went to brush my teeth in the bathroom. Alone for the moment I scrutinized my strange white face with such wide brown eyes and a prominent nose–for asia at least. I thought, “Who is this? Is this really me?” Without mirrors to remind me I had almost begun to forget my own race. My Accent blended, my words, thoughts and way of speech didn’t give me away. If it weren’t for the towering effect I have around most Asians, I might have thought I was Asian in those moments.

Now the reflection I see is different. The girl continues to dance in and out, singing and pondering, but I see so much more there now. I see what I couldn’t see before. I see a woman who stands with passion and confidence. I see a girl who is a little wiser for times spent at the feet of Jesus in an unpretentious Bible college a long way off in America. I see an Asian who discovered she was American and an American seeking to discover how much of her remains Asian. And I see a girl who longs to see in the mirror the reflection that God sees and realizes he’s right there to showing it to her.

When will my reflection show, who I am inside? We are all more than meets the eye, but on closer observation we can see the real person hidden in plain sight, right before our eyes. It takes a bit more time and love to understand what it is we see.