What Makes a Woman Beautiful?

What makes a woman beautiful?

I am ashamed to even write my answers to that question, but I would begin with beautiful hair. Beautiful, long, thick wavy hair has always, always, been out of my grasp. I'm quite happy with my hair, mind you, but beautiful hair? According to my skewed sense of reality, it must be long, thick and wavy. (And I might add...no gray.)

My next answer would be beautiful skin. A clear, flawless complexion...without wrinkles.  That wrinkle bit has just lately been added to my must-have beauty checklist.

Next on the "only-attainable-in-my-dreams" list is a small, perfect little nose. I will leave it at that.

Now the big finale...a beautiful woman must hover around a size 8.  I'll give a little leeway up or down, but this is a sticking point on my stellar list.

One afternoon my daughter and I were sitting at the computer, scrolling through my Facebook feed.  Since there are constantly ads along the side of my newsfeed, by daughter made a comment about a beautiful woman in one of the ads.  I don't remember what she said, but probably something along the lines of, "Oh she's so beautiful!"

That spun us into a little conversation about beautiful women, and beautiful women that we know. As we were on my sister's Facebook page,  of course, my sweet young lady mentioned my sister, mamma milk.  I agreed with her, because her aunt is beautiful inside and out! My daughter has always adored her aunt, and all of this just made me smile with pleasure.

As we kept scrolling through my newsfeed, by daughter kept commenting on my Facebook friends. "Oh she's so pretty!" "Oh she's really beautiful!" I began to realize that she was making these comments whenever she saw a woman that she knew. The picture she saw didn't really matter, because she was mentally picturing them in real life. And even if they did or did not have long wavy hair, did or did not fit into size 8 jeans, she thought they were beautiful.

My daughter was seeing these women as beautiful because of who they are. I don't really think she even saw their outer packaging, so to speak. She saw that they are kind, loving, caring, selfless and have a heart for Christ.  These women of God would do anything for me, my family, or anyone else for that matter. They are beautiful mothers raising children to be disciples for Christ. They are beautiful for everything they've had to overcome and for the strength they have to keep on this earthly journey. They are beautiful because they reach out to my daughter in love and compassion. They are beautiful to her because she wants to be like them one day. They are beautiful to her because they have set an example of beauty that is so much more lovely than wavy hair, clear skin and size 8 jeans.

And I know that's how she sees me too.

I've been pondering this little scenario with my lovely girl for about a week now, wondering exactly how to put it onto words.  I never, never, want her image of beauty to change. I know that as she enters the tween and teen years, this will become more and more difficult to maintain.

To all my Facebook friends out there...you are all beautiful!  I realized that I completely agreed with my daughter's comments about you all.  I would never hold my friends to my ridiculous beauty standards.  I absolutely do not care if you have long wavy hair. It wouldn't make me love you any more than I already do.  And if you're a size 4 or 14, it truly doesn't matter to me! Your size doesn't affect our friendship in any way.

Thank you God, for the gift of this young lady who reminded me of how You really see us.  You really see our love for You and others.  You really see how we care and serve our friends.  You really see how we show the love of our Savior to our families, church and communities.  You really see our beauty...and its the only beauty I can every hope to possess!

For All the Saints, and My Daughter!

Sunday morning I sat in church, with my tissues safe inside my purse. It was All Saints Day, which really is a joyous occasion, but I knew I might be needing those tissues.

I had been telling my daughter how my sister and I love the hymn, For All the Saints. I told her how I get choked up when we sing it, thinking of our grandparents and other loved ones who now "in glory shine."   How it makes me cry, but really it is so very joyous! So I knew the tears would be threatening to surface as they do every year at this service. 

My, how my Heavenly Father loves to show me His greatness!  On that Sunday morning...in the front row...sitting next to my daughter...He chose to show me once again His infinitely wondrous joy, and how it is so much bigger and grander and amazing than I allow myself to realize.

That special morning was my daughter's first communion. We had been taking classes together with our pastor for a month (parents and children together), and she had been learning about the Lord's Supper.  She had been discovering what it meant for her, God's precious daughter, to come together with our congregation to share in this sacrament. She had been looking forward to this moment for two years, looking forward to being a part of this family of believers. It was special to her as an individual and also as a part of a bigger picture, Christ's church here on earth. 

During the Words of Institution, as the pastor was blessing the bread and wine, I saw my daughter open her hymnal to the front page, where there are special prayers to be said during different moments of the service.  I knew she was reading the prayer to be said before communion, and my heart gave a little squeeze of joy. 

Then she looked up at me and whispered, "I'm so happy." 

My heart shuddered with joy, and a little tear escaped.

As we were taking communion, the congregation began singing, For All the Saints. I heard our pastor speak her name as she took the wine. Christ's blood was shed for her, for me, and for every one of us. 

When we returned to our seats, I found I couldn't make my voice form a single word of the hymn. I reached for my tissues and hoped no one saw the tears on my face. I read the words in my head as the congregation sang, and each word meant something new. 

Oh blest communion, fellowship divine,

we feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

My daughter was a part of the communion of saints...all of them! My grandmother, my grandfathers, and all of those that have gone home to Heaven. They may not be here with us, but they are in everlasting communion in Heaven, rejoicing as we rejoice here on earth. She is a part of something so big, so grand and so amazing. I was filled with such joy, it was seeping out through my eyes. 

And I once again was so thankful of how God can show me His greatness, how I am 40 years old and I'm never going to stop being amazed and overwhelmed and overjoyed by Him.  How I am so thankful for this gift of my daughter (and my son two years before her, and my husband and I some 30 years ago, and my sister, and my brother in law, and my niece and nephew, and my parents and in-laws, and my cousins and aunts and uncles, and my grandparents...) who became a part of this big, grand, amazing, blest communion. His mercies will never cease. 

Amen, come Lord Jesus!