Look, Daddy

“Mom, watch my new trick!” my three-year-old shouts. She’s about to do something amazing. Or so she says.

I turn my focus toward her, the small girl absorbing every ounce of my attention—a gift I hadn’t realized was so precious—before she does it. Her trick. She has lots of them now. Spinning on one leg. Cartwheels. Falling face-first onto her mattress. Tumbling fearlessly off the couch into a tuck, roll, and finish.

I must admit, some of her ‘tricks’ give my heart a slight hiccup. Still, I can’t help but watch. I can’t help but to celebrate each new feat. These awkward gestures she is learning in her small body. This adult-sized ambition packed tightly into her toddler coordination and execution.

As her mother, I get to be there to cheer her on. To support her and encourage her to be bold. To try new things.

I’m grateful it’s me she wants as a witness.

And I truly delight in these new accomplishments. Even the simplest ones.

My youngest has caught on to this attention-grabbing technique.

“Look, Daddy!” she shouts, then twirls herself dizzy. Or runs as fast as she can on two stubby legs. Or celebrates that she put her fork on her plate when she wasn’t using it.

She sticks out her tummy in triumph. Ta-da.

Look, Daddy.

It occurs to me I’ve never said those words to my Father before.

Instead, I fall into the rut of convenience and comfort—a means of pleasing myself and myself only—and by doing so, I stray away from intentionally using my God-given abilities to actually please God.

I don’t think much about showing Him any new tricks. Heck, I don’t think I have any. But even the smallest thing, if done for Him, makes Him rejoice.

So I turn my focus toward Him now, absorbing every ounce of His attention—a gift I know to be infinitely precious—before I do it. My trick. I may not have many. But there’s one I do have. One I’m determined to have.

To let people know I see them, and that they are valued. However that may look.

A smile. A sincere compliment. A hug. Even a high-five.

In a world smothered by fear, I will help a stranger in need.

Look, Daddy.

In our technology-saturated society, I will put aside my gadgets to be truly present with people.

Look, Daddy.

In the face of prejudice and oppression, I will embrace.

Look, Daddy.

In a country filled with angry voices, I will write and speak Truth.

Look, Daddy.

And, as the loving Father that He is, He will celebrate these feats. These awkward gestures I am learning in my small body. This godly ambition packed tightly inside human execution.

He’ll cheer me on. Support me. Encourage me to be bold in His name.

He’ll be grateful it’s Him I want as a witness.

And, I hope to God, He’ll truly delight in these actions. Even the simplest ones.

4 Comments on “Look, Daddy”

  1. Thank you Kelsey. This is an excellent article; both in the beautiful way in which you write, but also, and more impressive to me, in the way you show your respect and LOVE for our Lord.YBICMartin

    Liked by 1 person

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