She never used to care.
Though she’s kept her gorgeous red hair long ever since an ill-advised mommy haircut at age 3 (after which she cried and told me to put it back), she’s never wanted to do anything fancy with it. She’s been our no frills girl. No dresses, no fashion – she wears what’s comfortable. Can she play soccer in it? Then it passes muster.
Until now. Now she’s starting to take another look in the mirror. And another. She wonders what goes together. She cut that gorgeous hair into an actual style (though it’s still long). She’s tried make up (still not a fan). She wore a dress this summer. Three times. I think she maybe even liked it a little.
But along with this new interest is an increasing awareness that her reflection doesn’t always show her what she wants to see. This is too much, this is not enough. This doesn’t look right, that doesn’t work. And it breaks. my. heart.
I want so much for her to recognize the beauty that she is, both inside and out. But so much more, I wish that it was not even a category she used. I wish she could look in the mirror and simply see, “loved,” as we see her.
Sweet girl, I don’t care what you look like. I care about your heart. I care that you know how deeply loved you are, and that you live from that place always. At the end of your life, no one will notice what your body looked like. They will have known your heart. That’s all that matters. You are deeply, deeply loved and you were made to love well. That has nothing to do with the outside of you.
And as I write that, I know this is what God hopes for me as well. Because haven’t I, a thousand times, looked and frowned at myself? Wished this were less, this were more, this were different? Instead of simply looking and saying, “Deeply, deeply loved.”
Live from that place, and you will be so beautiful.