Beauty Redefined

My family is currently preparing for its newest addition: a new baby brother who will be born via C-section on March 30. Grandparents start arriving tomorrow; and by this weekend, we'll have a houseful of family members anxiously waiting for the arrival of the first Barbarick boy of this generation. It's exciting and intimidating. What am I going to do with a boy?

Preparing for his arrival has led to following reflection on the last four years with my little girls.

I'm not sure what served as my paradigm for feminine beauty the first twenty years of my life. It was undoubtedly a mixture of my mother, my sister, the "ideal" woman projected by movies, TV, and advertisements, and the opinions of my friends. Regardless of the paradigm's origins, I've recently noticed it's slow erosion. It started about eight years ago, no doubt, when I started dating the woman who would become my wife; but the slow erosion has progressed into a full-scale crumbling collapse over the last four years. And in its place I find a new pattern.

I've heard fathers say that their girls are the most beautiful women in the world, and I've often thought they must be faking such sentimental drivel. Surely they're saying it just because they know they should. That's what you're supposed to say. That's what you're supposed to believe. But now I'm starting to understand . . .

The most moving scene (for me) in the recent film The Bucket List is when Jack Nicholson's character finally scratches off the last item on his list of things to do before his dies: "Kiss the most beautiful woman in the world." He marks it off after giving his toddler granddaughter—whom he has just met for the first time—a peck on the cheek. I'm not afraid to admit that I balled. Because now I'm starting to get it. It's not mere sentimental hyperbole. To their daddies (and maybe even more so to their granddaddies), little daughters are the most beautiful creatures in the world. I can look at each of my little girls, who are unique in their own ways, and declare with straight-faced honesty: "God has achieved perfection. Here is beauty embodied!" Hence the heart-melting power of their sparkling eyes, intoxicating smiles, and irresistible pouts.

My little girls are now my paradigm for beauty. They are the standard by which all others are judged (and left wanting!).

I'm excited to experience the joys of raising a boy (it's amazing to feel the pride swelling even after the first sonogram!). But how can it compare to raising little girls?