“Your hair looks so beautiful,” she told me. A sweet little 7-year-old face with a long tangle of brown hair always flowing behind her. Surprised, I paused.
My hair? Beautiful? I was running around tired and nervous with my hair quickly thrown back in a braid. In fact, there were wisps of hair flying out of the braid and falling around my face giving me a half crazed look. But she said I was beautiful…
“Thank you! I’ll braid yours for you sometime if you want.” She nodded vigorously.
She thought my hair looks beautiful. I started to laugh inside at the simplicity of children, but caught myself. Maybe I needed that simplicity of a child. The simplicity to see beauty in crazy frazzled moments, in the wispy fly-aways of life.
“A, do you want me to braid your hair today?”
She instantly paused her game of tag and turned, nodding. “Do you have a hair tie?” she emphatically questioned.
I nodded in return, allowing my smile to spread wide.
With a child’s lithe movements, she ran over. “Sit here,” I instructed.
Her hair is so soft and smooth. I hope she feels beautiful and special. Little moments like this meant so much to me at her age.
In just a few short seconds her hair was neatly pulled back. “Let me show you.” I smiled and snapped a picture.
I rebraided M’s hair too. Flyaway blond curls. So beautiful. But she is just 3 and would never know.
Beauty looks so different from the vantage point of a child. When did I become so critical? So harsh in my judgements of beauty?
Simple moments. Nothing profound. No special word from God. Just a simple moment, my hands holding three strands of straight brown hair…beautiful brown hair.
Maybe I need to stop looking for the profound and start just looking for and writing about the simple. After all, isn’t there profound joy and beauty in simplicity?