The other morning when I was getting ready for work, you came marching into my closet in that happy, clumsy way of yours, arms swinging and face alight with a smile. Then you picked up the scale that sits in my closet and set it carefully on the bathroom floor. Surprised, I watched to see what you would do, and to my amazement you stepped right on the scale, as you must have seen me do before (more times than I care to admit). You looked down at the scale, not sure what to expect, then smiled when the display showed a number–your weight. You were delighted and clapped your hands with excitement. I was struck by this sight: you with your precious grin that makes my heart squeeze tight with love, on the scale, instrument that I love to hate. I have felt many things while standing on that scale, but rarely has the scale made me smile, but you don’t know any of those feelings yet. To you, the scale is just a toy, something fun to play with. You have not yet experienced the agony that comes with seeing a number that is anything but smile-inducing. You have not yet experienced the hurt of an unkind word or mean glance.
Sweet daughter of mine, I pray that as you grow older and the world’s opinions of beauty start to creep in, you keep that smile on your face and know that you are cherished, loved by your mommy and loved by the Father.