SO many of us go through life wondering why God didn’t give us great looks, good height or more colour. We look at others who we think are prettier or more handsome and sigh with envy. “If only…” we say to ourselves and look in the mirror sadly.
To those who think such, do I address this little story about a girl who grew up with a blind mother:
The one thing, however, that used to concern us was the fact that Mom never really knew what we looked like. One day when I was about 17 and standing in front of the bathroom mirror combing my hair, I asked, “You really don’t know what any of us look like, do you Mom?” She was feeling my hair to see how long it was. “Of course I do,” she answered. “I know what you looked like the day they laid your tiny little body in my arms for the first time. I felt every inch of you and felt the soft fuzz on your head. I knew that you were blond because your daddy told me so. I knew that your eyes were blue because they told me so.
I know that you are very pretty because people tell me you are. But I really know what you are like- what you are like inside.” My eyes grew misty. “I know that you’re lithe and strong because you love being on the tennis court. I know that you have a good nature because I hear you talk to the cat and to small children.
I know you are tender- hearted. I know you are vulnerable because I’ve seen your hurt reactions to someone’s remarks. I know that you have character because you have the courage to stand up and defend your convictions.
I know that you have respect for human beings because of the way you treat me. I know that you have wisdom because you conduct yourself wisely for a girl your age. I also know that you have a will of your own because I’ve seen a hint of temper, which tells me that no one can dissuade you from doing the right things.
I know that you have family devotion because I’ve heard you defending your brothers and sister. I know that you possess a great capacity for love because you’ve shown it to me and to your father many times.
You have never indicated in any way that you were short- changed because you have a blind mother. So dear,” and she drew me closer to her, “I do see you and I know exactly what you look like, and to me you are beautiful..!” How true and meaningful the words of that mother are, aren’t they? Close your eyes my friend and imagine you are looking in the mirror at yourself; what do you see?
A person, hurt, resentful and angry? Someone filled with envy, jealousy or an anger that is distorting your heart? Or is there love and warmth, caring and compassion? What you see is what you are. Skins wrinkle, good looks fade and bodies shorten with age but that beauty which only the blind can see is what you really are: Close your eyes: Are you beautiful or ugly? —Email: email@example.com