How God Made a Daughter
She waylays him with a hug.
“Dad, when do you have to leave tonight?”
At the news that worship practice had been called off, she dances excitedly beside him, jumping, squealing and persuading him with her smiles. “Want to watch a show with me?”
He grins, groans, and affectionately agrees.
Minutes later, they are at the couch, typing in the coordinates for an online Japanese animated film, and waiting for the movie to buffer.
“Want to make me some food?” he jokes, expecting a glass of milk.
“Sure, some noodles?” she offers.
“Wow, really?” My husband is thrilled, and we make eye contact and laugh.
The home-made beef lo mein she has learned to make is a new hit at our house, and we eat it several times a week now, it seems. Tucked away in my corner at the computer desk, I sip orange zinger tea, watch the snow fall, and join them in this relaxed evening at home.
Snow falls quickly, cascading into grey twilight to stack all night to a depth of eight to twelve inches, forecasters say. For now, though, patches of spring grass stand resolute under the onslaught, and a plate of beef lo mein has just arrived.
I watch my husband and our teen daughter laugh, talk, and scoop noodles, companionably, and I see it in her. The way she carries herself, how she throws back her head and laughs freely, and in her peaceful calm as she curls legs up onto the couch, settling in for the movie. This is a girl who knows she is loved. With the pure safe love of a dad, a mom, and her God, this woman-child is loved and treasured.
And the beauty of it falls glorious.
And we are broken, and human, and flawed parents, but somehow, somewhere, God brought beauty anyway, and it humbles and thrills me.
She’s yours, God. You did it, and you only. Thank you. And I offer it to you as praise, and am honored to love other teens in my care too.
(And linking quietly to Emily at Imperfect Prose too…)