beauty{full}: functional not ornamental

My Little Man was born with a club foot. I think I've written about this before. Those first two weeks before casting commenced, I remember looking at his precious feet and thinking how beautiful they were, especially his little left foot that curved in towards him. And yes, his tiny foot was beautiful to me, his mama, but it was not functional, not at all. Without proper treatment, Littles would never be able to run or jump or dance, and walking would be excruciatingly painful.

The next three and a half years were filled with weekly casting appointments, surgery, most casts, then a 24/7 brace (that he learned to crawl in) and then a night time brace. Today, at three years, nine months, and two days, the Little Man has been given the go ahead to try life without the brace, to sleep with free feet, if you will.

My favourite Little Man, asleep with his first cast on, a daily reminder that though Daddy was far away he was sending all his love halfway around the world and all his prayers too.

His feet are now not just beautiful: they are functional.

I think sometimes God allows difficult times in our lives, moments that might even cause us some pain, to move our in-born beauty to one that functions more successfully. He wants that beauty to shine through and bless others, pointing them back to Him (the ultimate good), but that tends to require pruning, reshaping, and redirection. And pruning can be painful. The reshaping of bone and flesh into something that truly works can be painful. The redirection of our feet so that they are pointing outwards toward others instead of inwards toward ourselves can be painful too.

But would I prefer to skip the pain and be merely ornamental or endure it so that my beauty can more fully blossom forth into something that lives and breathes and works toward the blessing of others?

I have spent the last three years telling the Little Man that wearing that brace will help him have strong feet so that he can run and jump and dance, so that he can kick a soccer ball and climb a ladder and race with his friends. It is worth it to be uncomfortable to have that. It is worth it to endure momentary pain for the long-term goal of unfettered life. And now he has done his time and his foot is free and functional and full of beauty.

What am I willing to endure for the end result of a beauty that is more than just for show?

{If you're looking for the rest of this series, all the links can be found here. Thank you so much for joining with me this month.}