“You see, every little girl–and every little boy–is asking one fundamental question. But they are different questions, depending on whether you are a little boy or a little girl…Little girls want to know, Am I lovely? The twirling skirts, the dress up, the longing to be pretty and to be seen–that is what that’s all about. We are seeking an answer to our Question.”
(Stasi Eldredge, Captivating)
You are beautiful, my girl. Beautiful. You take my breath away.
I watch you dance in the sun, twirling in the twirliest dress you can find, usually with a few tutus layered underneath to make it more poofy. I delight in you, my girl. I delight in the fact that right now, you are unashamed in your asking of the question: am I beautiful? Do you delight in me?
And, oh, yes I do. You are stunningly beautiful in my eyes, but you are a world of other things too. You are the kindest and most sweet-hearted girl I have ever met. You literally bubble over with love, always so happy to see others, taking time to talk with each person you see. You love people, love to play with others, love to make others feel welcome. You can’t stand to see someone cry without running to hug and comfort them. You are incredibly creative and imaginative. You are so strong physically, especially for being so much smaller than other girls your age. You love to read more than any other person I know, and I treasure each time you ask me to sit and read with you. (I hope this never changes!) You forgive easily. You tell the truth. You love to help.
All these things are surely part of the reason I look at you and see such beauty, because we are not just our physical bodies, and we are not just our souls. For some reason, in His wisdom God saw fit to enclose our beautiful souls in a physical form. We don’t get to choose so many things about ourselves, physically, spiritually, emotionally. We only get to choose whether we will accept who God has made us to be, or deny it and suppress it and fight it.
My dear sweet girl, today I wanted to tell you a little story. A story from my growing up years, the painful, hard and awkward years transitioning from being a little girl to a woman. I think I was in middle school at the time, 8th or 9th grade. My older sister was everything to me. Four years older than me, she was so cool, beautiful, creative, everything I wanted to be. I always compared myself to her. What was more difficult was when others compared me to her. She was more outgoing, funny, likeable. I was quieter, shy, never knew what to say when put on the spot. I hated the spotlight (still do). Often I craved the attention she recieved, or the love really, because that’s how I translated it. She was so beautiful and I felt so plain. Ordinary.
I was in 8th or 9th grade. My older sister had heard some big modeling agency was holding a model search in our town, and she wanted to go try out. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember that my mom was going to take her, and I went to tag along. I don’t remember if I wanted to go or if mom just suggested I come along. I wasn’t planning on trying out, of course. You see, I already believed deep down that I was plain. In my eyes, my sister was beautiful, but next to her I was just plain, ordinary, common. There wasn’t even a thought in my heart to ever try out for a modeling career. But then we were there, and my mom was like, “why don’t you go, too?” Who knows what her reasoning was, but I know she was only doing what she could to be the best mom she knew to be. Hope dies slowly in the human heart, and for some reason, even after we’ve convinced ourselves we don’t care about that thing anymore, something comes along that wakes our desire up again…