Should I answer the Doorbell?

Has this ever happened to you?

It's 10:00 a.m.. I've been up writing since 6:00 a.m, but I am still in my pajamas and my hair is wild one side and flat on the other, I have dark circles under my eyes from the mascara I didn't wash off last night, and there is broccoli in my teeth. (I get the munchies when I write.) The doorbell rings. What do I do?

When the doorbell rings, I notice the time and realize that it would be really nice if I had dressed and done my hair a little before 10:00. Makeup would be great, but it's a little late for that. It was still dark when I jumped out of bed and ran to my computer. I couldn't wait to get going. Where did the last four hours go?

Should I answer the doorbell? I could hide. What if it's someone important. I peek out the window. There's a car out front. I don't recognize it. What should I do. The person at the door may think I just got up. The person at the door may think that I am lazy or maybe a slob. But I'm not a slob, and I'm not lazy. I try to loosen the broccoli from my teeth with my tongue. Maybe they won't notice. Maybe they don't even know me. If I don't smile they might not see the broccoli. What do I do?

I answer it of course. I'm a little embarrassed, but hey how bad can it be? I know I don't look my best, but I can hold my head up. I can be polite and I can smile. Does that broccoli show?

She does know me. She's a friend. She is dressed up for work and she looks great. In spite of the broccoli, I smile. I don't explain my appearance, even though I know she's probably wondering. She's seen me look better. I don't feel bad.

A gift. She's brought me a gift. It's a thank-you from her girls--the ones I spoke to last week about self-worth. Now I get to practice what I preach. It's not my appearance that makes me worthwhile. It's not my hair, my clothes, my makeup. It's what's inside. It's who I am. It's my Heavenly Father's love.

Can Heavenly Father love me with broccoli in my teeth? Yes. In my pajamas with bed head and mascara circles? Yes.

I thank her for the note, and I open it without glancing in the mirror. I can laugh about that later. The note is awesome. The messages are sweet. The girls get it. For now, they know who they are. And if they remember, that will make the difference.

I look in the mirror and laugh. I pick at the broccoli in my teeth and remember who I am. I am a daughter of God, who loves me. For me, that makes all the difference.

Linda Garner