Beautiful

Bee Gees Song of the Day: Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You

Don't walk so tall
Before you crawl
For every child
Is thinking of something wild

I was lamenting the aging process the other day. When I was young, I'll be the first to tell you that I looked great. Firm, taut, strong, a size 4, my ass excited the ardor of upper classmen. Well, one upper classman. But he was hot and I had a powerful crush on him. I was dating someone steadily at the time and so didn’t give in to my baser nature.

I’m fortunate; my face still looks young. I’ve gotten used to the bemused wonder on the faces of those who find out I have 3 grown children. Still, I’ve changed over the last 25 years. My roots need coloring, my wrinkles are deepening.

I’m no size 4.

I was admiring my daughter’s hands the other day. Smooth, slender, and lovely. I compared her hands to mine and mine came up wanting. Wanting botox. But my youngest child exclaimed, “Oh, I LOVE your hands!”

“You are just being nice, they are hideous.”

“Oh NO. Look at them, they’re beautiful!”

“Oh, really.” I was unimpressed.

“I look at these hands and I see life! I can see all the foreheads you’ve checked for fevers, all the neck rubs, the aspirins you gave us, the peanut butter sandwiches you’ve made. Do you know you are able to make a peanut butter sandwich with one swipe of the knife?” she kept stroking and admiring my hands as I stared at her with an open mouth.

“How do you make peanut butter spread across the bread like that? That amazes me! I tried to do that once and I just ripped the bread. These hands have washed thousands of dishes, folded tons of clothes, swept floors, driven me places. These hands have loved and hugged and lived! Look at my hands! They haven’t lived! They’ve done nothing! I love your hands! I think they are beautiful! And your face,” she started to smooth my cheeks. “Look at those lines! Look at those smile lines by your eyes! I love those, you’ve laughed so much, you’ve smiled so much, they make you so beautiful!”

I doubt that we ever see ourselves as others see us. 43 years of living day to day, laughing, crying, loving, hating; all that living marks us emotionally, intellectually and certainly physically.

Do we ever see ourselves as someone who loves sees us? Did I realize that the insignificant act of spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread caused wonder? Did I ever stop to consider the eyes of my children and what they saw? When I wept? When I hated? When I forgave? When I clapped? When I smiled? When I hugged?

I looked at my hands again. And I looked at my smile lines again. And I looked at my not-size-4 body again. And I was beautiful.