It is not every day that you take a picture of your daughter with her arm around a former First Lady of the United States. But for me, that day was yesterday. Those who are around me regularly have already heard me tell this story at least five times... in the last hour.
Yesterday, Barbara Bush presented my daughter with an award from the Barbara Bush Literacy Foundation for the top essay of the year. When given the prompt to write about a time when you lied and then had to regain trust, Reese decided to write about when she was six. She went through a season when she lied about brushing her teeth. Let's just say that her mom and I did not take long to catch on to that one. You quickly forget about the adorable little blond in her nightgown when she breathes "Good morning" into your face.
Oooh, girl.
The essay wound up being called "Clean Teeth, Clean Conscious." We had more fun with the working titles:
"Truthpaste"
"The Tooth Will Set You Free"
"You Can't Handle the Tooth"
"Tooth or Consequences"
She called me Friday while I was at work to tell me she won. At first I thought, "That's wonderful." Then we realized what a big deal it was. Wow.
One thing I like to do for my little girl is to buy her earrings on special occasions. She loves them. And at her age, it is becoming more about fashion than cute little zippers or ponies or dolphins. She still likes that sort of thing, but she is at that tween age where a gift for an occasion of this magnitude demanded something special.
I rode over to West U this past Sunday afternoon to get her a present from a cool little store called "Ten Thousand Villages." Her dark blue sparkling earrings are handmade from Peru by people whose lives are supported by such craftsmanship. It's a win-win. But most of all, I get to look into the eyes of a smiling child. And that's priceless.
Speaking of smiling children...
Last week, the clothing store J. Crew sent out an e-blast advertisement to their subscribers showing a mom holding her sons' feet, both of them laughing at his painted toenails. The talking-news-heads called the mom into question for psychologically harming the boy's masculinity, which further proves that there is no shortage of stupidity when it comes to armchair analysts.
Mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, the most important thing we can do is to simply spend time together. Period. When Reese was three and four, she used to hold my hand, walk me into her room, get out her play clothes and salon replicas, and pretend to do my hair and paint my nails. Considering that I have no hair and often smell like a motorcycle, it was quite a sight. But for her, it was everything. The point was, we were together.
And then there was that time when the teen girls at Deer Run actually painted my toenails on a dare. Honestly, I didn't care. I told them that I would let them paint my toenails, but that we had to talk about whatever I wanted to talk about. So there we were, in the wooden structure where we gathered for worship every night. The five of us sitting on benches. And as they did my nails, we talked about the death and resurrection of Jesus.
Two thousand years ago, the incarnation of the living God named Jesus walked among us and showed us how to live. Before that Friday when he took up his cross, he spent years modeling the importance of being with others, listening, caring, showing compassion, and looking for opportunities to share God's mercy.
In the ancient tradition of the Stations of the Cross, stations one through three all have to do with Jesus receiving his cross, and even falling to the ground along the way.
I - Jesus is condemned to death
II - Jesus receives his cross
III - Jesus falls for the first time
Along the way, as I walk with Jesus, I can see children in the crowds. They are not laughing the way children should laugh. They are scared. Confused. Unsure of what they see.
So we take the kids home, sit in the floor of their bedrooms, listen to their fears and questions, and look for other opportunities when we can laugh with them and pretend to be airplanes or unicorns or trees.
Before that Friday when Jesus died, he gave specific instructions about the kinds of dispositions we are to cultivate as people of God. One such disposition reminds us to have the attitude of little children. Innocent. Not rushing to judgment. Asking questions that look for meaning.
And while she asks her questions, if she pretends to curl my non-existant hair with a plastic curling iron... well... that will be yet another opportunity to give thanks to God for her precious life.
