Imperfections
The boys had a rough time adjusting to the time change and have been coming downstairs and into our room earlier than normal lately. I normally (try) to guess at what time they will wake up in the morning so that I can shower and be for the most part ready for our day. One day last week, one of the boys totally caught me off guard so I had to throw on my mom uniform and go without makeup. Once they are up, it is a race to the finish line. Constantly picking up toys just to be dumped out again or making snacks and playing cars and princesses, running from errand to errand or practice to dance.
This morning in particular, we were rushing out of the house because I needed to be at the boys’ school earlier to handle some classroom mom duties. I was definitely feeling not my best because I didn’t have time to make myself more presentable. I don’t know if one of the boys could sense me feeling down, keep in mind they’re 4, but before we walked out of the door to the car he stopped me and put both of his sweet, tiny hands on my cheeks and said “Mommy you are the most gorgeous mommy.” Well, if that didn’t melt my heart and make me want to go Santa crazy I don’t know what will.
It did me thinking, however. Thinking about how we put so much emphasis on how we look on the outside and not enough on what really matters the most, our hearts, our deeds, our actions. To our children, they couldn’t care less that I’m wearing my full pageant face or if I had no makeup on at all.
They don’t see my hair that terribly needs to be done. They see me playing with them, feeding them, loving and nurturing them. They see me volunteering and as they know it, helping the soldiers.
Don’t we wish the rest of the world could see us through the eyes of children? The eyes that look up to US to teach them, to show them how to love not only others, but also to love ourselves. Those eyes that will lead our country and our world sooner rather than later. We should be teaching them to not judge someone’s outward appearance or the clothes they are wearing, but get to know the persons heart.
If only we could see each other through non-judgmental eyes. To see that we all need to be built up instead of tearing up other down. See that our outward, physical imperfections aren’t what really matters. We should all love to embrace and love those ‘imperfections’ because that’s what makes us, us. Spending time working on our physical appearance only takes time away from working on our most valuable asset. Our heart.
Until the Mission is Complete,
Farabe’
This morning in particular, we were rushing out of the house because I needed to be at the boys’ school earlier to handle some classroom mom duties. I was definitely feeling not my best because I didn’t have time to make myself more presentable. I don’t know if one of the boys could sense me feeling down, keep in mind they’re 4, but before we walked out of the door to the car he stopped me and put both of his sweet, tiny hands on my cheeks and said “Mommy you are the most gorgeous mommy.” Well, if that didn’t melt my heart and make me want to go Santa crazy I don’t know what will.
It did me thinking, however. Thinking about how we put so much emphasis on how we look on the outside and not enough on what really matters the most, our hearts, our deeds, our actions. To our children, they couldn’t care less that I’m wearing my full pageant face or if I had no makeup on at all.
They don’t see my hair that terribly needs to be done. They see me playing with them, feeding them, loving and nurturing them. They see me volunteering and as they know it, helping the soldiers.
If only we could see each other through non-judgmental eyes. To see that we all need to be built up instead of tearing up other down. See that our outward, physical imperfections aren’t what really matters. We should all love to embrace and love those ‘imperfections’ because that’s what makes us, us. Spending time working on our physical appearance only takes time away from working on our most valuable asset. Our heart.
Until the Mission is Complete,
Farabe’
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