The girl sitting across from me in the train had brought along a life-size, cardboard, flat, naked doll. This cardboard figure was covered with different pictures and texts. In the middle was a gigantic heart. There were also little hearts on the drawed-on, smiling, face. Naturally, I was intrigued. We struck up a conversation; the figure was supposed to represent her hopes, dreams and life goals. Inspiring.

It was an assignment for her minor. Everything was scrawled onto that weak piece of cardboard – it already had a rip in one of ‘its’ legs. Well, of course not everything, but a lot of the important things; the good and some the  bad. Later, I saw there was a word on one arm: “Depression.” I felt it was not right to ask about all these things in detail – after all, it was like her life was on display, and this was not for me, a passerby who had mysteriously appeared on her life’s journey, only to leave again in half an hour, to ask about, to probe into the deep depths of her soul.

But it was interesting nonetheless. It was beautiful that she had put it all on there: to accept oneself with every part, as Jesus also welcomes us with each part, with each doubt, question… What would I put on that doll? Do I accept myself? My weaknesses, my questions, my [past] periods of depression or something similar; the heart-aches, the doubts, and the joy? Am I willing to stop putting labels on myself: “inferior”, “unworthy”, “not as good as others” – trying to strike through things that happen in my life as not good or inferior in comparison to those of others? Or am I willing to let it stand? Without passing judgement?