A visit to Melbourne always involves at least one train ride. I love train travel. The gentle rocking, the click of the rails, the whoosh as the train comes into the station. The beep of the doors as they open. It’s a relaxing way to travel and I like looking into the backyards and gardens along the line.
But also interesting is seeing the people on the train.
A recent trip in Melbourne gave me some food for thought. The journey into the City takes 45 minutes and the train was quite full when I got on board. Seated opposite me was a young woman with a rather large Mary Poppins-style bag on her lap.
The young woman looked very smart: perfectly coiffed hair with not a stray strand in sight. Sharply dressed, in a black suit with a cream shirt and discreetly patterned silk scarf. Hhmmm … I thought, Looks like she has an important meeting in the City.
As the train pulled out of the station she rummaged in her big bag and pulled out a tube of make-up cream. She proceeded to smoothe it over her face, covering the few small freckles and blemishes on her fine youthful skin. Another dig into the bag produced a small brush with which she carefully stroked her thick, dark eyebrows into submission. I was trying not to watch, but we were sitting close, knee to knee, facing each other so it was hard not to notice. Besides, I was becoming fascinated.
Next came the kohl pencil to outline the eyes, followed by a magic wand that lengthened her eyelashes. A splurge of colour on the eyelids. The wand went back into the bag to be replaced by a small jar of powdery substance that was slowly smoothed over the skin with a small powder puff. Another dive into the bag brought up a red pencil and a line was drawn around the lips. Then came a red lipstick followed by a stick of matching gloss. The wands and sticks were dropped back into the bag and out came a big brush, like a giant’s paintbrush. Dipping it into a small jar of pinkish powder and paying close attention to the reflection in the handheld mirror, she flicked and smoothed the powder upwards across her nicely chiselled cheekbones: a healthy, sun-kissed glow on a dreary Melbourne day. With a final touch to her already perfect hair and changing her dangling earrings for more sedate studs she plonked everything back into the bag on her lap. As she zipped up the bag she smiled and said, ‘Sorry if I disturbed you.’
‘Not at all, I replied. ‘I should apologise to you. For staring. I was always taught it is rude to stare but I was fascinated by your skill. And on a moving train!’
We chatted for a while and she said that she had an interview for a ‘big marketing job’ and needed to look her absolute best. She certainly did that.
As she changed her flat shoes for a pair of ‘killer heels’ – yes they too were in the bag – she smiled and apologised again. The door beeped open and she was gone, striding confidently towards the escalators.
I hope she got that job. Her attention to her appearance would certainly have scored 10 out of 10.
As I heaved myself and my backpack from the train, being mindful of placing my walking stick safely, for some reason a wonderful old hymn came to my mind: Just as I am.
The writer was Charlotte Elliot who wrote some 150 hymns, many inspired by a physical impairment which was the result of a serious illness when she was a young adult. She often felt depressed and inadequate and questioned her usefulness to God’s work. During one particular dark time, she consoled herself by writing this hymn Just as I am, in which she set out her beliefs, thankful and reassured of God’s acceptance of her with all her disability and imperfection.
It is wonderful that we can come to God with our imperfections, our broken bodies, our doubts. We don’t need to ‘glam up’, wear the right clothes, look fabulous inside and out. We are totally acceptable to him just exactly as we are.
Just as I am – though toss’d about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come!
Just as I am – poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come!
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Sheelagh Wegman, BA, IPEd Accredited Editor is a freelance writer and editor. She enjoys reading, music, sings in the choir of St David’s Cathedral in Hobart and lives in the foothills of kunanyi/Mt Wellington.
Sheelagh Wegman’s previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/sheelagh-wegman.html
Sheelagh Wegman is a freelance writer and editor. She is in the community of St David’s Cathedral in Hobart and lives in the foothills of kunanyi/Mt Wellington.
Sheelagh Wegman’s previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/sheelagh-wegman.html