already crazy about you.

Dear baby girl, 
I used to shun anything and everything silk or feminine because I never wanted a man to notice me. Because men did things we didn't want them to, and took things that weren't theirs to take. 
I wore bulky sweaters and baggy pants and walked around hoping a lot of yardage might make their souls invisible. I avoided mirrors like an allergy that might make it hard to breath. 
One time, I followed a recipe in Seventeen magazine for DIY mousse. And then I went around with this sticky mess of hair that had sugar shaking out of it like a serious medical emergency case of dandruff. 
And those years in junior high when everyone started highlighting their hair and investing in their own personal curling iron, asking for makeup for Christmas?
I twisted bandanas of every possible color and shade into my messy bun and called it a good day if I got mascara on the eyelashes. Numbers on tags seems like undeniable proof of ugliness and standing in a room full of primped girls could make the self-loathing gnaw right into my blushing insides. 
Bikinis can taunt mean and clothes can mock loud and I've stood in front of mirrors and looked right into those eyes and whispered it loud: loser. 
Being a woman every day can be a minefield. 
But maybe, if you see your momma comfortable in her own skin, if you see her take care of her body, it will spare you just a bit from this phenomenon. 
Because baby, every woman should breathe peace in her own exquisite skin. 
I pray for you that you will see how you sparkle. That no glossy, media-induced, photo-shopped lies can steal away your God-given joy in being fully you. 
Your soul was made to perfectly fit your skin. 
I will tell you at the sink and at the mirror and at the door that your Father made you fearfully and wonderfully and uniquely. I will tell you that you are the perfect-sized you for a God-sized plan. 
I'll say it in the dressing room and to the shaming thoughts you share behind closed doors. And we'll say it to every woman who hides. That you, that I, that we, that they are daughters. His Daughters. And we fit into any swimsuit, dress suit, shimmering suit. Because we are suited up in armor of Christ, so media arrows or childhood arrows or other-people's-comments arrows cannot harm us. 
There will be days that pierce you. Days that hurt. But if you turn toward His grace, the bullets and barbaric of this world stand no chance. You'll only be more lovely, as His grace turns you around and carries you beyond the ugliness of the earth. I promise you this. 
I will love you deeply, little one. And I will see your face as pure Jesus- masterpiece. Because it's the truth. 
I'll tell you how beautiful you are. Maybe even a dozen times a day. I'll say it when you're little, when you're bigger, and even when you say "I do." Because even if you have a man saying it, sometimes you just need a momma to speak into your scraped and bleeding places. 
You are so beautiful. So soul beautiful. 
It may not be easy to be a woman in this world. But it's always perfect to be a woman in His hand. 
I will hold you and affirm you in the firm grip of Jesus and whisper to you what the Father has already said about you. 
You are a treasure. Love is being lavished on you and you aren't ever rejected but instead loved everlastingly and over you, {over you}, Jesus sings this song. And it's one breathtakingly magical song. 
Your someday mom is already crazy about you, little one.