At the ripe old age of 13, toward the end of my seventh-grade year, I was given an honor so great and unexpected I hardly had words to express my grateful acceptance. I was voted Best Eyes in the entire school – Girl Category. The results were published in the last school newsletter of the semester, and in my excitement, combined with the whirlwind of requests to “look at me, I wanna see your eyes,” I completely forgot to buy a paper. I was in wonderment that the whole school (in reality it was probably only the 15 kids in journalism class) voted for my eyes. They saw my eyes. I had pretty eyes. They saw me. They voted for me.

The overwhelming sense of significance was quite a change from what I felt was the reality. I was what most people would (and did) call a “Goodie-Two-Shoes.” I made perfect grades, followed the rules, took the classes I thought I ‘should’ to please parents or teachers or whomever I thought required something of me in order to succeed. I felt invisible to those who’s opinions I thought really mattered: the popular group, the cool kids. I was never willing to do the things that would make me a part of the group, but sometimes I sure did wish I had the guts to break the rules. I told my mom when I got home from school that day, and although she believed what I told her, I had no proof to show her it really happened. She said something to the effect of, “Well, I already knew that!” and returned to whatever Mom-duties she was in the middle of. Inside my head, the applause I thought would be there was replaced by a funny sounding squeak from the air escaping slowly from my happy balloon.

The summer approached and life went on as though none of it ever happened. It was a distant planet by now, the one called Ebony the Significant. We didn’t return to public school, instead we were enrolled in a small private school where Honor Rolls and Best Eye mentions became a part of ancient history. Years followed, along with graduations, weddings, epidurals and diapers. I’d reassure myself on those when days I could have easily played a zombie in a movie, no extra makeup required; I had the Best Eyes once. It wasn’t until I had my own little girl that I recognized the wisdom of my own mother’s ho-hum-ness that had hurt my feelings so many years before. She had never intended to downplay the recognition to make me feel insignificant. She just knew I had so much more going for me than my beautiful blue peepers. I thought back to the times that she did whoop and holler for me, the times she let those pompoms fly, the times she blew up my balloons herself. It was when I made the Honor Roll, when I won a choir award (no matter if it was 2nd place), when I worked on an experiment for six weeks before the big Science Fair instead of throwing something together the night before. And yes, there were times that she cheered even when I messed up. When I tried and flopped. When I failed. As an adult, she never stops encouraging me, like when I take my kids to church alone because my hubby is working so far away, when I share something I wrote with her, when I support my hubby in the midst of the ever-changing landscape of military life, when I encourage my friends publicly on Facebook because I just can’t help myself. She knew then what I realize now: If I had placed my value on a sheet of paper that acknowledged only one physical part of me, I may never have continued to strive for excellence in the areas that mattered. I don’t necessarily think I would have shot to the top of the cheerleading pyramid or become the school’s next fashion trendsetter, but I think she realized the impact it had on me, and how placing such great value in a Best of Whatever award could be have a negative impact, pulling me to work on my next Best Part, rather than the next Great (character-building) Accomplishment. I still look in the mirror at times, and my gorgeous denim-colored stunners look back at me with contentment. I thank God every day for the things I have and do that can bring glory to Him instead of to myself… Like the 11 years of marriage that have flown by, and through thick and thin we’re holding on no matter what the world says we should do. Or the gift of my three little science projects, some call them children, but until I know for sure what I’m doing, it’s all an experiment. And the ministry opportunities that come knocking on my door because of the wonderful lifestyle He’s placed us in. Even the gift of an ADD-like attention span that keeps me reaching for new horizons and has the ideas pouring out of me like iced tea on a hot day. My mother, a very wise and beautiful woman, has shown me the importance of Proverbs 31:10 – Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

With my own daughter (and both sons when needed) I try to apply this wisdom in the way I cheer her on for her accomplishments, both big and small, and encourage her to use her gifts and strengths as she grows. I also tell her she’s beautiful, because God made her special. I feel it’s important that she grows up knowing that as a wonderful creation of the Most High, she is perfect and beautiful in His sight, and mine.

What about you? How has God made YOU beautiful? How do you balance outward beauty with inner beauty (you have both!)? If you have daughters, how do you teach them what true beauty is? Do you have a favorite scripture that encourages you when you’re feeling less than glamorous?