The other morning my son woke me up by holding my face in his chubby little hands and whispering in my ear, “Mommy, you’re beeeeyoutiful. You’re my most beeeeyoutiful Mommy.” I was ready to give him the world if he so desired, when he went on to say, “Your hair is messy. It needs a brush. And so do your teeth.” Three-year olds. They can be heavenly sweet and brutally honest, and it only makes you love them all the more.
As we enjoyed some precious cuddle-time, I vaguely wondered if his latter comments about my messy hair and other maladies negated his initial compliment. And that’s when I realized. Children operate on a whole different standard of beauty.
We grow up in a world saturated with impossibly-perfect super model standards. Photoshopped, of course. The media convinces us we’re less-than-worthy if we don’t measure up to its definition of beauty. We can’t even pass through the check-out lane without a barrage of images staring us down, telling us we’re not enough. And all this right next to the 700-calorie candy bar display.
Yet in the midst of it all, my son sees his haphazard-haired Mommy-without-make-up and says, “you’re beeeeyoutiful.” It’s not that he ignores my imperfections. Instead, he sees me in all my imperfect glory and knows that beyond it all is a heart full of love for him.
Maybe that’s why the Bible says we should all be more like children. Not childish, of course, but childlike. They see from a higher perspective than we who tower over them in stature. I believe they see from God’s perspective…God, who “does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”
Photo Credit: Tiara | Flickr – Photo Sharing!
We have a God who sympathizes with our every weakness
Last Sunday I went out to walk the dog and found a little boy wandering around the parking lot with no shoes on, no parents in sight. I asked him if he lived in our apartment building, and if I could help him find his parents, but he couldn’t speak clearly. It was early in the day and he looked so disoriented I decided to call 911. While he petted my dog and my kids entertained him with toys, we waited for the police to show up.
When my husband and I lived in the inner city, friends and relatives rarely came to visit because they were afraid of getting shot. I would think, “What are you afraid of? We’ve lived here fourteen years and only been shot at five times.” Encountering random gunfire in the city is not a daily occurrence as most would presume, though I can understand that for most people one close-encounter is one too many.
A few days ago, I was the one waiting on the butterflies to emerge from their cocoons. Now they’re waiting on me. Or, rather, we’re waiting on the weather. We can’t set them free until the time is right.
So it looks like my butterflies-to-be will be coming home with me for Spring Break. Though I was hoping my students would be here to witness metamorphosis, the timing just didn’t work out. But the coming transformation is something I definitely do NOT want to miss. How sad if it were to happen in an empty classroom, for no one to see.
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