the most beautiful thing: grace
The eyes of a precocious eight-year-old boy found me today as I was chatting with a dearest friend. The boy, the son of my friend, has all the charms and sparkle of his dad. I noticed how the young, vibrant reflection brought out those qualities even more in my friend. It was cute. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
I have often imagined having a daughter and am suddenly aware that she may reflect me in ways I’ve just not thought of before. I can’t venture to say how or what, but I the thought of a little girl ever-present reminding me of the magic of being alive and my own personal beauties would be a gift beyond what I’m sure I could even imagine. Of course, there would be incredibly humbling things shown my way, too, I most certainly am sure. These, too, would be reminders of beauty in the reminder of humanly perfect imperfection.
My grandmother Gloria passed humor, mischief, strength, and immense beauty down to my mother, Carolyn, as no doubt her mother Grace passed to her. I hope that in me my mother is reminded of those qualities as I can only hope it is what I possess, truly, beyond what others have tried to tell me. And my little one, when she comes, may she get all the good graces of her great-great-grandmother Grace who was kind enough to pass them on.
Little one, you are waiting somewhere to join this world, I know. I promise you all the appreciation and love I have to give when it is time. Rest assured, there is a place for you down here on this little blue diamond and I am sinking into all the grace and beauty I can see in order to make it so. Your gifts and the gift that is you will be well-received. Wait a little longer, but with confidence.
Photo credit: unknown.