I was about five years old when my father took me out to eat at The Cracker Barrel— it was without a doubt one of my fondest father-daughter memories. After we ate, we found ourselves browsing through all the goodies in the shoppe. My eyes lit up the moment I came across a beautiful stuffed animal mouse, light pink and oh so soft. “I want this, Daddy!” I exclaimed. My father’s face softened with an expression somewhere between pure love and defeat. He took hold of the mouse and peeked inside the card attached to it’s ear. He then set the mouse aside and began to reason with me. He picked up another stuffed animal to compare the price tag. “Look at this one. Why don’t you get this one instead?” I didn’t want that one; I wanted the light pink mouse. However, I didn’t argue or throw a tantrum; I was raised right and knew that never would’ve been tolerated by my father. I’ll never forget what he did next. He set the cheaper stuffed animal down, and he picked back up the pink mouse and handed it to me. “Let’s go.” He said softly without any idea that would reside in my mind and in my heart for the rest of my life.

Joy comes in many forms, but the love shared between a father and daughter produces a special kind of joy—a kind of joy that will go on to inspire a woman to become her very best self.

We as women learn to love ourselves because our father loved us first. Those without the love of their earthly fathers must realize the love they have from their Heavenly Father; we all must realize this love. It’s in this love, we can come to understand our worth.

About ten minutes into my most recent visit to the nail salon, I witnessed something that really spoke to me. A little girl about five years old, dressed in a light pink ballerina tutu and slippers walked into the salon with her father. “We have an appointment for two pedicures.” he stated proudly. About half an hour later, I heard laughter break out among the women in the salon. I looked over and caught a glimpse of the little girl with her very masculine father as they walked across the room with matching light pink toenails.

This father was letting his daughter know from a very young age that she had great worth. He was letting her know that it doesn’t matter how silly or out of his element it is; if she loves it, he wants to share it with her. The joy of his daughter was worth the sacrifice just as my joy was worth the sacrifice of my father. The joy of the Lord’s children was worth the sacrifice of His Son, and because of His grace, we can all know joy.

A smile spread across my face as I knew in my mind and my heart that little ballerina would remember that moment for the rest of her life.