Her attitude perfumes the atmosphere. She’s a delight to be around; a beautiful saint: Yida (pronounced Gee-Dah) Quiñones. She lives in Camagüey, Cuba and works at a print shop.
When Marilyn and I were with her in Cuba in 2022, we were hardly aware of it—a slight bulge on her forehead. You can see it in this picture if you look closely. It’s not like people were running up and looking at it like a tear in the seat of one’s pants.
But she may not feel that way about it. She is aware of it. At times she saw it looming large, believing it is a limitation on her way to becoming Mrs.________.
Before we dismiss it as inconsequential, remember that she is the one with the bump. Not me, not you. Her!
You may not have a bump, but your eyes may be a bit too close together, your front teeth may have a gap between them, maybe you’ve lost an eye, or you have some facial blemishes that exclude you from the World of Barbie.
Maybe you have a social bump. A stain. You come from a dysfunctional family. Your dad is in jail. Your brother died of an overdose. Whatever.
What we could all see may not have been so obvious to Yida. What was plain to us was that any potential husband who walked away from her because of that bump was not worthy of her.
God has allowed her an imperfection that He is using it to grow her faith. God wants Yida’s trust. Trust that He is at work in her life, even through that bump—trust that He still loves her and is committed to a full, rich life for her. Trust. Faith in the Father.
How we interpret such blemishes is critical. Let’s think about Jacob for a moment. He wrestled with an angel and as a result he suffered a debilitating limp for the rest of his life (Genesis 32:31 & 32). He could look at his limp positively or negatively:
Negatively:
- It hurts.
- I do not want to limp; I don’t like it.
- It slows me up. I can’t walk as fast as I could before.
- It diminishes my masculinity; it makes me look wimpy.
- It embarrasses me. I feel self-conscious. People stare at me and feel sorry for me. I don’t want their pity.
Positively:
- I am among the favored few who ever got to wrestle with an angel.
- I have learned some things in life, so I now enjoy the reduced physical responsibility of an elder statesman of the faith.
- I have a trophy limp from that august night . . . what a night! That experience is my greatest spiritual treasure.
- How I rejoice that I met God that night. I came face-to-face with myself by admitting my name is correct (“I am a tricky person; a schemer.”)
- My limp is a badge of honor; a spiritual victory over myself.
Which glasses we put on—how we look at ourselves and our experiences—governs victory or defeat. The choice is ours: happiness in faith or discouragement from a worldly perspective.
Yes, Yida was wrestling with her bump, but like Jacob, she is achieving a victory that adds to her beauty. She is a delightful woman. Whoever wins her mind and heart—including her bump—will be a rich man. Ah, yes, Beauty and the Bump.
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