WHY didn’t I have good looks like my sister? a girl cried to her mother. The mother looked at her little girl, sighed and said, “Do you know my sisters and I grew up with a blind mother? 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 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.
So dear, “and she drew me closer to her, “I do see you and I know exactly what you look like, and know you are beautiful!” The mother of the little girl who had complained of her looks then turned to her daughter and said, “How true and meaningful the words of my mother were, weren’t they? Now close your eyes 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?” “Dear daughter, 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!” The little girl closed her eyes and smiled, knowing she was beautiful..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
