"I want to be beautiful."
She sat up, looked at herself in the mirror--hair unbrushed, face stripped of its mask. Then she closed her eyes and thought, "I want to be found lovely."
Letting herself fall back onto her pillow, she threw the blankets over her head as her wishful thinking became brutally undermined:
"Your hair needs serious attention. And you have got to cover that face of yours, gross... You're lucky no one sees you now... You know, you're only pretty when you're dressed to the nines. Casual is just not cute on you... You've really let yourself go... And frankly, you're not good enou..."
"ENOUGH!" she shouted abruptly as she sat up. She took a deep breath and cried quietly.
She was filled with frustration and hungry for the truth: Who said she had to be a certain way? Who told her she was ugly or out of place? Who had set the standard?
Her King spoke:
"Someone who could care less about her. Someone whose only aim is to see her in the grave - lifeless, zapped of joy, and emptied of any idea of her worth, purpose and authority. Someone who forgot that the day she'd know her name and its meaning, he who veiled her sight would regret ever touching her."
In the days following, she walked even closer to the One who told her the truth, never minding personal space. She drank in every word He said and felt herself grow stronger with each one.
One evening, she sat outside with the One worthy of her trust, and she asked, "How much do You love me, Papa?" She waited quietly, excitedly, curiously.
"Daughter, you see the stars in the sky? See how they shine brightly... And, daughter, see the trees and their branches raised up to the sky praising Me? I made these for you to see. Do you like them? I made them for you to see, My daughter. Tell Me, do you like them?"
She looked up at the velvet sky, then to the great oak trees that shared the ground she sat on. "Papa, I like them!" she said smiling. "They are truly incredible." Then she asked again, with the same curiosity and a new boldness, "Papa, I want to know. How much do You love me?"
"Daughter... My daughter, I love you more than these. I love you so much more than these."
She let her heart sing in a language only its Maker knew as a quiet wind blew and wrapped her in the softest cashmere. The leaves in the trees and every blade of grass cheered the Master, for what was affected by the wind could not stay silent.
On a new day, they walked hand in hand, and He answered a question she had asked with her heart many times, for He knew the longings that still taunted her.
The One who loved her magnificently said:
"Expect to see My beauty in yourself."
Had ever a statement been heard by her own ears, she knew not. So she inclined her ear in order to catch every precious word.
"I made the heavens and the earth, the stars in the sky, the birds in the air, and the fish in the sea. I made that sea and the mountains and the meadows that you love. But you... only you I made to bear My image. I make beautiful things for you to enjoy, and I make people beautifully so that the world can see Me. I made you to be seen and cherished. I see you; I cherish you, and of all creation, I chose you, a human, to reflect Me. People are the creation I chose to give a desire and a capacity to love and to receive love...
And I chose women to bring life... Just as I give life... Like Me... In My likeness."
