Clumsily she struts around in my shoes, a pair of black high heels that I rarely ware, dug out of the back of my closet. Her smile is wide as she announces that the fashion show has begun. Dragging her feet through the carpet to the mirror, she admires her look, then falls, laughing as she makes her way back to the closet for another pair.

This behavior–playing fashion show–is new to us. I have vivid memories of doing the same thing as a little girl, but her older brother never played games like this. And so watching her fascination with my shoes is fascinating to me.

They are far too big for her little growing feet. Not to mention uncomfortable and hard to walk in. They don’t fit her yet, and if I expected her to wear them, she would surely fall and injure herself. The time for filling shoes like this has not come for her.

She loves to play with them though. There is something about pretending to be grown up that draws her back each time, trying out a new pair. Seeing how she looks; how she feels.

Curiously she has never put on her Dad’s shoes. Though we share a closet, our shoes lined up neatly next to each other’s, she always plays with mine.

As she plays I begin to notice how much she is watching me. She is not pretending to be a grown-up; she’s pretending to be me.

An image of me–not an exact replica–but in her own mind, I am the closest thing to a grown up girl she will ever experience until she becomes one herself. I am her definition of a woman. I am the mirror she looks to to glimpse her future. How funny that she has taught me so much about being a mother and yet I am the very person she will learn to be a mother from.

The weight of it all hit me while she pranced around in my shoes. My beautiful girl. My precious daughter. I have the power to raise her to amazing heights as a daughter of the King, and also the power to damage her perceptions of real womanhood beyond recognition. It is a weighty, exhilarating, and scary moment when you realize all your daughter wants is to grow up to be you.

That day is not far off. One day she will no longer be a child, and I can only I hope she sees herself as I see her now. Fearless, mighty, brave, tender, observant, creative, curious, and above all else craving the deepest affection and the most outlandish love. I know that I will let her down, as all mothers do. And when I do I hope and pray with all my heart that she will run to the One who will never let her go, who can tend her heart in ways no human ever can.

Yes, I know I will let her down. But oh how I never want to.