Good morning. In my last post I talked about the father I would want to be if I had a son and this morning I thought it appropriate to share what it would be like for me as the father of a daughter. Now at the start, I must confess that the prospect of raising a daughter scares me more than most normal phobias.
Perhaps it's because I can avoid almost any phobia that makes me uneasy. I am not too fond of heights so I simply don't seek out tall ladders or cliffs higher than 15 feet, nor do I enjoy being in a crowd gathered in a confine space so I don't rush towards mosh pits or crowded elevators. However, there is no escape once nurse puts a baby girl in my arms.
From the beginning I would have a fixed need to protect my daughter from all danger, and a enduring charge to defend her from all the antiquated expectations that this broken world has for girls and women alike. As with having a son, I think about what praise songs would stir inside me as I watched my daughter fall asleep in her crib. Perhaps it might be "I Stand In Awe," "Great Is Thy Faithfulness," or "God Is So Good." It wouldn't matter which; just so long as the tune taught my daughter to appreciate the gift of God's grace.
I would do my best to slow down time so as to extend every moment with my baby girl, but then I would wake one morning to find that she was old enough to read. Each night before bed we would read stories about courageous women in Scripture. We would read about the faith of Sarah or recount the leadership of Deborah. We would take turns narrating the advocacy of Esther or reciting the loyalty of Ruth. We would immerse ourselves in the hope of Hannah and become fascinated by the humility of Mary.
In doing so, I would commit myself to teaching my daughter that there were no chains restraining her, nor any cages barring her from any kind of service in God's kingdom. If she wanted to offer up a song or a prayer, my daughter would sing with confidence and pray with assurance. No matter if she wanted to minister or advocate, my daughter would minister with determination and advocate with zeal. Whether she wanted to counsel or heal , my daughter would counsel with wisdom and heal with love.
When she reached a certain age, I would want to convince my daughter that beauty was not found in make-up or yoga pants. Rather, I would persuade my daughter to embrace the cosmic truth that God does not make ugly, nor does God leave anyone incomplete. To the point of being annoying and embarrassing, I would take multiple opportunities each week describing to my daughter the beauty I see in her smile and in her eyes. And it would be my most fervent prayer that some day she would choose a husband who would do the same.
Besides never doubting my avalanche of love for her, my daughter would know that I was always dependable. She could trust on my hugs to comfort and rely on my shoulders to cry on. She could depend on my compassion in her failures and expect my excitement with her successes. She could assume my readiness to hike the next trail and presume my willingness to canoe the nearest body of the water. Yeah, that's the kind of father I would be if ever I had a daughter.
CJE