Fresh Ink

Contrary to what my prim and proper persona might imply, I'm sort of a fan of tattoos. Not necessarily the head-to-toe, full-coverage, can't-see-an-inch-of-skin type of tattoos. But a tastefully placed, well thought out tattoo can be pretty cool. I got one in high school. Would not necessarily advise that anyone do that.  It's not necessarily that I regret getting it. It's just that things that can mean your whole world in high school can end up being not so meaningful an adult. I mean, does anybody really know themselves in high school?  I know that I didn't. (You're curious now aren't you? You want to know what it is don't you?? What are you picturing in your head right now? A boyfriend's name? A cartoon character? High school mascot?) Okay fine I will tell you. It's none of the above, it's a shooting star. It reminds me of a group of friends that I barely know now, outside of social media. It also reminds me of a time that was so simple, my greatest love was cheerleading. But more than the story behind why I chose the star was how and when I got it. I was 17 and at the time my dad had been consumed with work most of my life. We didn't have a terrible relationship, we just didn't really have a relationship at all. For my birthday that year, he decided to take me and my brother to Woodstock 1999. Yes, THE Woodstock. We got to see some of the greatest bands of that time, we camped out in a tent together, and whatever had possessed my dad to actually take us, also possessed him to allow me to get a tattoo at 17. He was the uncontested winner of the Dad of the Year award for at least a year.

My second tattoo came about two years later. Not only were my parents supportive of this, they were encouraging me to do this one for years! It's a clover and practically my entire extended Irish family has one in some form. I like that one a lot. It's dainty and hugely meaningful for me. My daughter always asks if it's a stamp of a tree. My son tries to peel it off like a sticker. 

I thought I was done with two. But I'm starting to think that once you get started, you might not ever be fully done. I've been thinking about a third one for over two years now. I've been wanting to get the word "beloved" in a super dainty way on my wrist. Being the older, (somewhat) wiser version of myself, I didn't want to make a permanent alteration to my body without it being well thought out. Plus a wrist tattoo would be my first visible tattoo. That's a big deal to me. After much thought and discussion with skeptical husband and overly-supportive siblings, I took the plunge. 

I'm not gonna lie, I'm sort of in love with it. It has more meaning and intention than my first two combined. I chose "beloved" because I'm so incredibly humbled and in awe of the fact that the Creator of the universe, our perfect Heavenly Father, uses that amazingly sweet term of endearment for me. Little ole sinner me. Isn't that truth so beautiful?? He calls us the one He dearly loves. 

The one The Lord loves. Could there be a more beautiful word??

Now you probably noticed that mine isn't in English. Can you guess what language it is? If you said Arabic, you're right. Weird right, that I would choose that over ancient Aramaic or Hebrew. Well for one, God has given me a heart for the Arabic people over the last few months that has been both beautiful and unexpected. But that's not necessarily a reason to have something permanent etched on my body in their native tongue. I think it's a really beautiful written language but even that's not entirely reason enough to choose Arabic. The reason I chose Arabic is a reminder for me and for anyone that asks that Jesus did not come for the "Christians." And even though the Jews are God's chosen people, God didn't send Jesus just for them either. God sent His Son for EVERYBODY. Jew, gentile, Muslim, black, white, purple, whatever. God sent His Son for His children, His beloved creation, which includes every single one of us, from all nations. 

Deuteronomy 11:18-20 says, "Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates." Many Jews today still wear scrolls with God's Word on their wrists and foreheads. I just took a little bit more literal and permanent interpretation of this verse. ;)

"I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine." (Song of Solomon 6:3 NIV)