You Deserve Better

The catcalls caught me off guard.

I’m a happily married, almost middle-aged, mother of two. Not the young, college girl he’d clearly mistaken me for.

I’d planned on enjoying a quiet evening at the coffee shop. A rare treat these days. My husband had plans to do Mother’s Day crafts with the girls, so they sent me on my way for a little alone time.

The sun was setting, and it was just the right amount of warm to sit at the small bistro table outside. I sipped my latte, waiting for my computer to start up and that’s when his car pulled into the parking lot.

Expletives flew out from his rolled down window. A line that would hardly draw him an ounce of attention from any female.

Surely.

I ignored him. Didn’t look his way or acknowledge his presence.

It didn’t work. He persisted.

And I knew I was the target. There was no other woman in plain sight.

Curse word after curse tumbled from his mouth. My mother once told me that people who curse do so because they lack the intelligence to come up with proper words. He was making her point.

Never in my life, had anyone directed such comments towards me. At least, not to my face. And without an ounce of shame.

I realized this would continue until I addressed the issue. “Are you talking to me?” My eyes cut across the narrow space of parking lot between us.

“Yeah, girl. How are you?” His upper body hung out from the window, and I tried my best not to cringe.

“I’m happily married with children.” I refused to play the game. There was no way I was going to be, or would’ve ever been, flattered by his tactics.

“Yeah, girl. I got kids, too. Six of ‘em.” A thousand different comments ran through my head, and had I not been so flustered I would’ve spit them out. I’m sure the Holy Spirit was holding my tongue. And rightly so.

“Okay.” That’s all I could muster as I packed up my computer and went inside.

Disdain boiled my blood. Sympathy, too. Not so much for him, but for the realization that his methods must’ve worked on others before. And for the fact that he thought it was appropriate to speak to someone in such a way.

As if I’m just an object. As if all I’m worth receiving is string of offensive, useless, foul words. And as if I should be glad, or even impressed, by his degrading behavior.

Women, we are made in the image of God. Not to be lusted over. And not to be viewed as simply an object of pleasure.

And as I approach my thirty-fifth birthday, my heart aches at how many of us don’t realize that.

How many of us believe that our bodies, and our appearances, are really the best of what we have to offer up. That our value is somehow tied to whether or not others view us as desirable, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

And yet we are so desperately grasping for validation in all the wrong ways. But a man who looks at you, seeing only what is visible to the eye, is absolutely not worth an ounce of your time.

You deserve better.

You are worth more than the packaging of your flesh. And you deserve someone who knows that. Someone who loves you not for how you make his flesh feel, or what you can do for him, but for the woman God created you to be.

For the kind and generous heart you possess. For your smart and witty ways. For the inner strength and confidence that is founded upon your excellent character. For the ways you serve and nurture. For the selfless love you pour out on those around you. For how to are willing to help shoulder heavy loads, work diligently, and lead by example.

So don’t settle. Not for a second. Not in the midst of your deepest desperation. Don’t accept the bare minimum.

After all, you are not a bare minimum girl.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

And you deserve nothing but God’s best.