I feel pretty...

Could it be that we as women have gotten it wrong? Like, very wrong?

Yesterday after a long day at my Dad's office I picked the kids up from school, raced home, fed the kids some snacks, balanced my checking account, put the kids soccer clothes on and headed to the soccer field.

My sister is on Spring Break, therefore I am filling in for her at Dad's office. It's not terribly difficult, but it does put me pretty far behind in my house duties. No biggie, I will catch up.

Back to the story. I am feeling frumpy at best that day. My hair is pulled in a very haphazard ponytail. My make-up is long since gone from 6:15 that morning. My eyes are showing "tired" and my breath stinks from dehydration. The office was out of bottled water, so I guzzled coffee all day. Yes, coffee breath. The.worst.

I get to the soccer field with a few minutes to spare for the start of Joseph's game. I put my big Hollywood sunglasses on to disguise myself. Madison is a small town. I wasn't up for small talk, so I tried my best to hide on the sidelines.

Soon after, Lem shows up at the field. He gives me a GREAT big hug, pulls me close and tells me how beautiful I look. I quickly look over my shoulder to figure out who on God's green Earth he is speaking to. I saw no one.

Were you talking to me? He smiled and pulled me closer. I turned my head so that he wouldn't smell my 18 hour breath.

I suddenly felt pretty. Not pretty in the physical way, but pretty in the "I am loved" way. The kind of pretty that shows on the faces of  plain-faced girls who fall in love with a boy and suddenly her face is noticeable and she is beautiful in a way that you never saw before.

I felt a rush of color to my cheeks and giggled to myself. Really? This is all it takes? I am not even trying, not striving, nothing...and he thinks I am pretty?

As we were getting ready for bed he said..."You looked so beautiful today. You're my girl, always."

I am still trying to figure out what he saw that day? What was different?

Could it be that the more we strive for beauty the more it lessens our beauty? Could it be that just "being" ourselves...living our lives...watching our children play soccer...could be the secret to true beauty? The kind of beauty that can only be unveiled through being who we are? Not about a brand of make-up, a certain perfume, the right hair cut, or hair color?

As I sit here and write, I am looking at my daughter sitting cross-legged on the couch. What a beauty. No striving, no insecurity to withhold her true beauty, just pure Presley. Captivating.

Food for thought, girls.