This year my autistic daughter turned 16.

So she, like the Cinderella of story, received an invitation to the ball. In this case the ball was the 2012 Mormon Prom for the Northern Virginia area.

When I realized prom was coming up, I asked my daughter if she wanted to go. She was non-commital. “But I really like Kirby,” was her non-sequitur.

Luckily for my autistic daughter, she has a fairy godmother–in this case her eldest sister, drama and art graduate turned nanny who now co-houses with us. Eldest sister pulled out beaded gowns, silver trim, a make-up kit to die for, and accessories galore. By that evening my autistic daughter was transformed from a hunched teen in T-shirt and jeans into a vision of sparkling loveliness.

Dad did escort duties, taking our daughter out for dinner, then accompanying her to the dance. I hear there was a reporter there from the Washington Post who was astounded by the recreation of London, Hyde Park, Portobello Road, and Covent Garden, complete with “guards” dressed as Her Majesty’s own Beefeaters. And like in the Cinderella tale, the vision almost wholly disappeared by midnight. Cinderella left behind a glass slipper. Mormon Prom left behind Big Ben, still occupying a corner of the ‘cultural hall’ when we arrived at church for services this morning.

The evening was fun, but as I wasn’t my daughter’s date for the night, I didn’t experience that fun except by means of the stories I was told. This morning, however, was another delight, one appropriate to Mother’s Day. Tradition is that girls (and guys) wear their prom finery to church the next day. It’s a fun way to show off your lovely things to the wider family of acquaintances, many of whom have known and loved you since childhood. It’s also an inspiration to the younger kids, a tangible proof that it’s possible to be lovely and modest at the same time.

In our case, we were showered with fond smiles and amazed congratulations. The little ‘handicapped’ girl they’ve known for years was beautiful and behaving like the lady her gown proclaimed her to be. In a gentle way, it was as though my daughter were being formally introduced to our congregation as a woman rather than a mere child. It was a wonderful moment for me, as her mother.

My girl is back in her T-shirt and jeans, hunched over the computer desk reading a Wikipedia article about the Next Great American Band. I’m sure there will be instances of childish behavior. But just as gold-flecked quartz may be transformed into pure gold, my funny little daughter is transforming into the thoughtful woman she will be. And last night’s Mormon Prom was a notable milestone in that transformation.