Perfect

Did you know that a police officer lives in our home?  No, my husband has not changed careers.  I have a 7 year old fashion police that resides with me. She very confidently keeps all of us in fashion order.  This is not a new choice of  vocation for her.  Since she has been old enough to point to her clothing choices in the closet, she has been hard at work.  I believe she will have tenure at "What Not to Wear" within her first year on paid staff.  

At the age of 3, Miss Fashionista was very opinionated about her clothing.  I quickly learned to give her 2 choices in the morning.  I mean, after all, the combinations were endless, when faced with her entire closet!  After we passed that hurdle, a new rule of how many outfits could be worn during the course of one day had to be made.  If given the opportunity, she would come down with a new ensemble every hour.  Dress-ups and costumes were our saving grace!

Everytime (and I do mean every single time!) we told the girls we were going somewhere or planning something, her first question was "what will I wear?"  What we were actually going to do or who we would get to see was trivial information.  

I've always wanted to instill a healthy self confidence in my children.  Not a prideful attitude, but confidence in who they are (by God's design, of course).  For my dear Fashionista, this was not a problem.  I vividly remember her standing in front of our full length mirror one Sunday morning when she was 4.  She had on her Sunday best and her hair had just been fixed.  She twirled once, tilted her head to the side, took a deep breath and smiled.  Just one word escaped her lips before she pranced down the hall.  It was a word that I KNOW I have never said looking into the mirror.  

Perfect.

I laughed to myself the rest of the morning.  That one word crossed my mind a dozen times as I sat in church, trying to concentrate on great spiritual truths.

Perfect.

She had not said it for others to hear.  She didn't say it in a prideful way.  She probably didn't even know that she had uttered it.  It was just a moment of contentment in what she saw in the reflection of the mirror.

How often do I feel contentment when I look in the mirror?  Am I so consumed with the affects of gravity and a few extra pounds that I can't find contentment in what I see staring back at me?  Oh that I could look in the mirror and for a moment be able to get past the typical "oh well, that'll have to do" mentality.  

After all, I am a princess of the King, and one day, I will be .... well,

Gloriously Perfect.