The other day I let my daughter out the door knowing full well she was dressed inappropriately.

Not immodestly but definitely inappropriately.

It was the day of the school music fest and she should've worn something other than her usual attire--boys' gym shorts and a printed tee. It wasn't even one of her nicer printed tees. I quickly realized my reasoning with her was in vain and in my "choose-your-battle" kind of way sent her out the door with my usual, "Bye. Love you. Have a great day!"



Later that morning, as I made my way into the crowded auditorium I spotted her on the front row. She sings in the school choir. She stood there, quite tall for her age, among the tiny princesses in their ball gowns and their updos and even in make-up (we're talking K-6 here, people).

My initial thought was, "There! That will teach her a lesson!" A lesson that had gone unheeded when I tried to teach it to her this morning before she left for school.

But then reason worked it's way through my clouded head and I had second thoughts. Maybe this is the lesson I'd prefer her to learn. That it doesn't matter what is going on around her. How the world or the school or the other princesses tell her she should look.

She stood there boldly. Sending out the message, "This is me. This is who I am. And I'm OK with that."


Later that night she dressed herself for the evening performance she appropriately donned a skirt. A nicer tee. And she curled her hair. The next night she left for the performance in distress because she ran out of time and couldn't get her hair just quite right.


I believe the second lesson may be the greater lesson of the two. It's the lesson with which I continue to struggle. Evidently as does she. But I will always remember watching her stand there a sum greater than that of her parts or her wardrobe choices or her hairstyle. Unphased and unfettered. Free to be.