The young child was about almost five. Excited, bright, and oh so happy, it was a joy to watch her run circles around her father. It was clear that there was a special relationship between the two. She was bubbly and cute! It was a party that everyone wanted to join.
I knew the father but had never seen him in this context. As we talked about business and potential opportunities, I added a remark about the wonder and joy daughters bring to father’s lives. Even as I said the complementary words, I second guessed myself. It was not because the words were inappropriate or had an agenda. The words were just what they were – admiration and complements to the father and the daughter on their special relationship and appreciation for the way they shared with everyone in the room.
My regret was because of the impact on the girl. In that moment, hearing the remark and understanding that it was partially about her, she became self-aware and her insecurities took over. It was as if she felt she was being judged or at least observed and she was not sure she could measure up. Her laughter went silent. Her playing stopped, replaced by a hiding embrace of her father’s leg. I caught a glimpse of her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.
As his attention was diverted like mine, I took the opportunity to share a bit of my story in a situation like this. As the moment of fear faded, the child’s body language told me she was listening far more closely than her father was. As I talked of the joy and pride that continues to grow, I could see her standing a bit taller. As the short story reached a natural end, she cautiously reengaged, her smile returning.
A psalmist left us a reminder for when we are in her shoes. “Oh, let my song please him; I’m so pleased to be singing to God.” (Psalm 104.34) It is hard to remember that we are loved because we are who we are.
