What is beauty to you?

Came across this great Ukrainian folk story that I condensed to use in a church program. It was an excellent way to teaching my children of what beauty really is. My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world, that is true. (And so is my Mother-in-Law, she’s a gem).

“My Mother is The Most Beautiful Woman in The World”

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when the harvest season had come again in the Ukraine, the villagers were all busy cutting and gathering the wheat.
Marfa and Ivan went to the fields early each day, as did all their children. Varya was Marfa’s and Ivan’s youngest little girl, six years old. When everyone went to the fields in harvest time, Varya went too.
In the field, in the long even rows between the thick wheat, Varya knew just what she must do. Varya and her mother would follow her father, Ivan, who would cut the wheat. She gathered the wheat in bunches just big enough to bind together and held each bunch while her mother tied it with a strand of braided wheat. When the three bunches were tied, they were stacked against each other in a little pyramid.
After a while, instead of long rows of wheat, there were long rows of wheat bunches, standing stiffly.
Day after day, Ivan, Marfa, and Varya, went to the field, until the wheat was cut and stacked.
One day, bright and early Marfa, Ivan and Varya went to the wheat fields. “We must get to it,” encouraged Ivan, “this is our last day to get the wheat in!”
Marfa and Ivan worked quicker and harder than ever. They did not seem to notice the hot sun. But to Varya the day seemed the longest she had ever lived, for tomorrow was the great feast after the harvest which she loved so dearly.
Varya peered into the next row of wheat which was not yet cut. There it was cool and pleasant and the sun did not bear down with its almost unbearable heat. Varya moved in just a little further to surround herself in the wheat. “How lucky I am!” she thought, “to be able to hide away from the hot sun. I will do this for just a few minutes. Surely Mama will not mind if I do not help her all day long.”
Soon Varya grew sleepy……
When Varya woke, she jumped to her feet and started to run toward her mother. But her mother was nowhere in sight. Varya called out, “Mama, Mama” but there was no answer. She ran up and down the rows looking for her mother and father.
Soon she came to a group of strangers. By now she was very afraid. She burst into tears. “Poor little thing,” cried one of the women, “she is lost!” But this sympathy and the strange voices made Varya want her mother all the more. She could not help crying.
“Little girl, little girl,” they said, “what is the name of your mother? So we can help you!” But Varya was too unhappy to speak.
Finally because her longing for her mother was so great, she sobbed.
“My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!” she said.
All the men and women smiled. The tallest man, Kolya, ordered the young boys to run and take messages. “Bring Katya, Manya, Vyera, and Nadya,” he ordered.
“Ay, but don’t forget the beauty, Lisa,” he called.
As each beautiful women came rushing up, blushing and proud that she had been so chosen, Kolya would say to Varya “Is this your mother?” Each time she would shake her head no and cry harder out of disappointment.
Varya felt very lost and desperate without her mother. Not one of them was Varya’s mother.
Just then a breathless, excited woman came puffing up to the crowd. Her face was big and broad, and her body was even larger. Her eyes were pale slits between a great lump of a nose. The mouth was almost toothless.
“Varya!” cried this woman.
“Mama” cried the little girl, and they fell into each other’s arms.
All of the villagers smiled thankfully when Varya looked up from her mother’s shoulder and said with joy:
“This is my mother! I told you my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!”
The group smiled at
each other, as Kolya repeated the proverb:
“We do not love people because they are beautiful, but they seem beautiful to us because we love them.”
The next day was the festival. In the evening Varya sat cuddled on her mothers lap and happily watched the women dance. As the music played Varya whispered to her mother “Mama, the dancers, they are so beautiful. I love to watch them and they have such beautiful dresses and beads.”
Her mother whispered  back: “This is the harvest feast day. Everyone is wearing their best clothes, and their best smiles.”
“Mama”, Varya said, “I know that some of these women have more beads than you. Some have bigger and wider skirts. Maybe some of them can sing and dance better than you can. But, Mama, to me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!”

Tags: beautiful mothers, beauty, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world