The Runway

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.  Chi-dang dang!  The runway music pulses.  "You can open your eyes now Mom!"  Out she flounces, my food snarfing, thumb sucking daughter.  She twirls, poses, and primps.  I sit in the seat of honor for a fashion show put on for my benefit as (friend) Stacy and my girls perform their carefully correographed show.  In the background, they carefully detail the benefits and delights of each outfit.  They transformed my hall into a runway with candles and bright colors they feel are really hip. 

They're thrilled, exhillerated with their performance.  They feel beautiful.  I pause, thinking of my constant teaching that beauty comes from within, that all the clothes, makeup and beauty aids in the world cannot make you feel beautiful.  That only comes from their creator. 

No.  They do not need another lecture.  Their mom should be the living reflection of God's love.  Something they can touch and hold onto, a sturdy platform from which to leap to the love of their Heavenly parents.  I look at my daughters as they twirl and toss their hair.  What does he think? 

They are beautiful.  I errupt in a standing ovation.