A Vision of Loveliness...in Work Gloves

It hangs high from the end of our bed and has for over two weeks. Each time I pass by, I suppress the urge to swish its skirt--a dream of white silky smoothness hemmed with circle upon circle of fluffed up crinoline. Scarlett O'Hara, eat your heart out.

Such a garment was made for twirling, sashaying, strutting...for feeling beautiful in. At $20, it was more expensive than any dress in Amelia's closet, but I bought the slip, anyway (although I must admit the spent-thrift in me bought one size too large so I could take a tuck and make it last more than one year).
It seems wasteful to spend so much money on a garment no one will (hopefully) ever see. But to this mother, it is the epitome of "girly-ness," of the feminine, of the beautiful daughter of the King I know my daughter to be and who I hope grows up to one day believe herself to be. As one who struggles with rejecting our culture's concept of beauty, herself, I know how difficult this is.

Perhaps that's why I have yet to put it back in the closet, because just a glance at such frilly little-girl duds in a household so long empty of children makes me smile.

Or perhaps it's that I want to hold this particular image of a little girl for just a few moments longer...because I know in my heart Amelia will be more like me than the dainty princess this skirt suggests.

She loves dresses and shoes and "tails" in her hair...until they get in the way of her driving a tractor across the yard, walking down a fallen log, or playing in the dirt with grand-daddy's work gloves. At the first sign of trouble, she tugs the dress over her head, finds her dust-laden clogs, and tugs the tails out of her hair--free from the trappings that slow her down.

While her mother may be lost in moist-eyed visions of ruffles and bows, at least Amelia has her priorities straight.