Beautiful

I noticed it early on in life. The way my little thighs spread out like a couple of slabs of butter on piping hot pancakes every time they touched the surface of a chair.

“Momma, how come my legs do that when I sit down?” Apparently, I’d also noticed the difference between my legs and the little legs of my other friends.

“Honey, it’s just the way we’re made.”

But even so, it didn’t change the way I felt about them.

Never satisfied. Always frustrated. And frankly, embarrassed by the fact.

She sat on the bench next to me as we watched her sister’s dance class from the observation deck, and I wondered when and if she’d ever notice it.

We share the same build. Long torso, short legs.

Her shoe came off, and just like she’s watched me do a thousand times over, she used her little toes to pick it up off the floor. A perk of having toes that are near the length of pinky fingers.

She was so proud of her accomplishment.

Just like mommy!

And I realized how devastated I would be if she began to pick her body apart. The same way I’ve done to myself over the last 30-some-odd years.

If she criticized her legs. Her cute, little legs that I just love to squeeze.

Or if she complained about her sweet little toes that I could absolutely nibble.

Or if she verbally tore apart the lovely, intentional, and beautiful way God crafted her.

Because so much of what my daughter received is from me, and when I look at her, there isn’t a single thing I would dare change.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Just like every other human being. Crafted and designed just as God planned. And, although the Lord’s thoughts are not my thoughts, I can just imagine at how His heart must break when we tear apart His creation.

When we criticize and critique. When we poke fun at or demean. And not just others, but ourselves, included.

Because we are not only intentionally knit together by Him, but we are made in His very image.  

And, listen, no one has the perfect body. Yet. We’ll get there one day, but by then, it’ll be the last thing on our minds.

“You are so beautiful.” I tell her every day. I hope she believes me. Even if the world may dare whisper anything else, I pray she won’t listen.

 And the same goes for you, too, my friend.

Not because of the way you look. But because of who you are. And whose you are.