My seven year old came down stairs Sunday morning, her face beaming with pride.  I really wanted to ask her not to wear her Taekwondo jacket to church, but I didn’t because she loves it.  To her, it is her Sunday best.  Then I noticed the uneven pig tails sticking out from her head on either side just above her ears.  Her precious grin seemed to stretch from one pigtail to the other.  I knew in that moment that her “up do” was the reason for the smile.  “Who fixed your hair?”  I admired the work.

“I did,” she said confidently.

“Wow, you did a really great job.”  The Husband, who was standing behind our youngest, gave me a wide-eyed look that said, “are we looking at the same hair?”  When she went back upstairs to retrieve her Bible, he asked if I was going to at least straighten it up a bit.  I told him I wasn’t.  I would have loved to capture the look on his face, utter shock.  I consider myself a recovering perfectionist, which makes his reaction all the more justifiable.  However, in that moment, I was able to make some progress in dealing with perfectionism; while, at the same time, allowing my daughter to enjoy the progress she’s made with styling her own hair.

During the worship part of the service, my darling little girl stood in front of me, singing to Jesus at the top of her lungs.  This provided me a prime view of her workmanship.  Occasionally, she would reach up to each pigtail and tug it tighter because the rubber-bands were slightly loose and kept slipping.  My heart warmed and then I became suddenly aware that God looks at me the same way.  Only, He’s looking at my heart.  He sees the progress being made, and while I may still be quite the mess in my Sunday best, He rejoices with me in the progressive victories.