My Three Sons

I recently came across a blog written by a pastor who was doing a sermon series on Proverbs 31 – the perfect woman series. Always dangerous territory for a male pastor to take on. One of the sermons was on beauty, and how each man should tell the women in his life how beautiful she is. Of course, being the contrary person I am, this made me upset. I wouldn’t want my husband telling me how beautiful I am simply because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because that’s how he really feels. I know, the pastor is trying to make this world a better, more loving place, but come on! The reason a woman wants to be told she’s beautiful is because she wants to be desired, wanted, nothing to do with it being proper or right or Godly. If Luke ever told me I was beautiful after a sermon like that, I wouldn’t believe it for a second, even if he meant it. Some things are supposed to be spontaneous, to be of the moment, to be spoken because they can’t be held in any more. I can probably count on one hand the times I’ve actually been called beautiful (well, besides by my parents) and each time I treasure it in my heart. It’s so precious because it’s rare and generally heartfelt. The best compliment Luke ever gave me (and I’m guessing he probably doesn’t remember it) is how glad he was that he didn’t have to settle for someone unattractive to marry, that he got the person he actually wanted and he never thought that would happen to him. Of course, maybe I’m the only one that feels this way about the whole beauty thing. What do you think?