Beauty means something else these days, since coming to
… maybe since becoming a mother, I’m not entirely sure. Texas
I’m a woman that believes in at least a decent attempt to look like a woman even if I’m really just a mom, and that a killer pair of high heels and knock-em-dead mascara can do wonders for a woman’s energy and self-esteem.
My “uniform” here is usually something made of half-bleached cotton (we have funky and highly chlorinated water and nothing is sacred in the washing machine, it seems). My hair-do is practically tragic and I haven’t put on a pair of heels all year. It is easy to feel all run-ragged, to live in pajamas and not recognize my own self in the mirror many days, and eleven kids is sure enough to make my femininity drain right through my chipped toenails.
I can doll myself up and slip into something frilly and feel beautiful.
Or I can dish a second helping of chili mac (don’t judge) onto a kid’s plate and tousle his head and kiss my husband long and deep… and be beautiful. I can stumble with eyes half-closed in the night hours to soothe a baby and I can gather up the gumption to apologize after an argument, even if I don’t think I’m wrong. I am not a sight for sore eyes these days, but oh that the Lord would make me, in my weakness and through His strength, a balm for hurting hearts.
Linking to: The Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday