Category: Dad Stuff

Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you (Exodus 20:12).

Today is my Dad’s birthday. 

He died about five weeks ago, so this is the first birthday I will celebrate in his absence.

It is the first of many things I will do in his absence.

We’ve had a season of loss here in Michael Land. My mom died in November, and my dad in May, so I went from fully-parented to orphan in just over six months. I know I haven’t really processed it yet, but as today is his birthday, I wanted to honor him.

And I find, to my chagrin, that I’m not sure how. 

I mean, my dad would not want a big tribute. He was a private man and would never approve of me devoting a blog post to him–even one with an audience as small as mine. The whole idea that I am writing about him this morning he would find uncomfortable.

So I will not write about him. I will write about the man he inspires me to be.

My father has inspired me to be a dad

who is always there

who tells his children that he loves them

who hugs…a lot

who plays with his kids way beyond their kid-years

who is wise

who follows Christ

who leads his children in the ways of God

who comes to the end of his life knowing that he has loved and been loved.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

And Happy Monday, Beloved

I remember teaching you to ride a bicycle.  You were so scared, the bicycle so big.  It was, in truth, a tiny machine, long since sold at a yard sale. On that morning, however,  it was your Goliath to conquer, your stallion to tame and to claim.  

“Deeda, hold on tight.  You won’t let go, will you?”

Never, if I have the choice.

So up and down the sidewalk we went, you gripping the handlebars, me gripping the back of the seat, both of us holding on for dear life.  At first it was all I could do to keep you upright, your natural inclination being to kiss the pavement.  Little by bit, you steadied, you strengthened, and you began to pull away.

From me.

I felt it before you did…the balance, the control, the confidence coursing through your little body.  I still held on, but my hand was superfluous.  I held on not for you, but for me.

“Deeda, you’re still holding on, right?”

Right, but…I can’t hold on forever, can I?

Oh please, God…can I?

May I?

No.

I remember—I know it sounds crazy, but I remember—the first glimpse of daylight between my hand and the seat post.  I remember the feel of the metal as it slipped from my fingertips 

and I saw, in that flicker of a moment, that this was the pattern of my life.

Hold

Protect

Teach

Challenge

Guide

Release

I have always known, from the moment I first held you, that letting go was part of the job.  Because, of course, you are not mine—you belong to your Heavenly Father, and he has plans that will take you far beyond my puny grasp. I have always known that my job was to prepare you to leave.

But knowing doesn’t make it easier.  Trust me on that.

So do your old man a favor, huh?  Cut me some slack when it comes to the whole “Letting go” thing.  I may not always release as quickly as I should—or at least, as quickly as you would like. I’ve had nightmares of you driving off to into the great scary world, dragging me along by the bumper as I try to attach training wheels to the car.

I promise not to do that.

Probably.

By the way, watching you ride your bike that long-ago morning was pure delight.  It was a delight that I pray you get to experience one day, the happiness that comes from seeing your beloved child head out boldly into the great big world.  So those tears in my eyes, yeah, those were pure joy—joy tempered by loss, joy strengthened by sacrifice.

The joy of being a dad.

Your dad.

Throwback Friday? Yep–It’s been exactly that kind of week. We’ll get back to Ephesians on Monday.

Hiking is a great way to damage those you love.  Over the years I have sometimes forgotten this and taken my family out on “Togetherness” hikes.  You think I would learn. See, I have a problem with remembering things like distance and difficulty.  The beautiful thirty-minute stroll that I remember turns out to be a three-day slog of despair.

The walk my kids fondly refer to as, “The Killer Death Hike” took place years ago, when Alec and Carissa were eightish.  Oh yes, they still remember. In defense of dads everywhere, there is no way I could have known that they were both packing a virus along on the hike.  They looked fine, and the fevers didn’t hit until we were beyond the point of no return. Getting lost—that was my fault—but not the fever. Besides, they perked up after a couple of days. Such things build character…and resentment.

Another fine family moment occurred when  I took Cathy and the kids on a beautiful, snowy mountain walk to a gorgeous lake.  I’m not allowed to forget this one, either. My bride has fairly clear guidelines for what constitutes a good hike.  It should not be too long, nor too steep, and it must be in or to a pretty place. I took this hike with Alec and found that it fulfilled all three requirements, so two days later we took it again with Cathy and Carissa.  Now I ask you—is the man to be held responsible for the weather? Is it for the man to realize that the light drizzle we had at our house would translate into a foot of new snow on the mountain? Should the man have calculated the additional effort required to hike a couple of miles in fluff as compared with well packed snow?

Yeah, probably.

For future reference, it is much more difficult to walk in fresh snow.  But it was pretty; even the ladies admitted as much as we all gasped and reeled and fought off Mr. Death. So much character built that day.

The night hike to the fire observation tower was pretty too, except for the part where it was too dark to see anything but the glowing eyes of numerous predators.  Once we got to the top, the view of the city was amazing. If there had been a helicopter to fetch us and take us home, it would have been perfect. Less perfect was the two-mile stumble back down the road. The really steep and slippery road.  In the dark. Character, Baby.

Now here’s the great thing about my clan—they keep coming back for more.  I once suggested that Carissa hike in her Converse high tops—bad idea. Blister bad.  She still hikes with me. I took Alec on a backpacking trip with a pack heavy enough for Chewbacca–he may or may not have been carrying canned fruit–but he never complained. He wept, but I’m pretty sure it was from the joy of building so much character.  I’ve seen my Cathy lead the way up the trail when she would undoubtedly have preferred to use her boots to stomp her loving husband because he miscalculated the distance…again.

What a great example of trusting in a father’s leadership, even when times are tough.  At least, that’s the message I’m taking from it. The alternative does not bode well for the gene pool.

If you’ve never taken your family hiking, do.  I’m actually not sure whether it builds character or simply reveals it, but you will definitely find out what your family is made of.  You will learn to take abuse, both physical and emotional. Best of all, you will get to practice being family. Besides, it provides great metaphors that make you sound wise and fatherly:

“You know, life is a trail, full of rocks and brambles and biting insects…”

Good luck with that, Pops.

Happy Friday

OK, this is the end of my “The kids are gone to college and I feel melancholy and nostalgic” week.  Thanks for putting up with me.

I am Husband.  I am Father.  I am called by God to be the spiritual leader in my home.  It’s one of those callings I have received, of which I want to live a life worthy.  Of.

So I make plans to have Family Worship.  You know, a time to read Scripture, pray, discuss, and sing together as a family.  It is a great plan, and I am a great planner, and it never seems to work.

I can envision it perfectly.  We begin shortly after dinner. Everyone is home, the family is settling down for the night—it’s our own private vespers.  I play a little guitar, and my family is transported to the very throne room of God.  Then we read the Bible, and I expound upon the mysteries of Truth as my children sit, awestruck at their father’s wisdom, and my bride silently weeps with the knowledge that this spiritual Atlas is her soul mate.  As we pray, we are drawn, singly and corporately, closer to the Lord.  In nations around the globe, lives change and darkness is pushed back…

It’s a really good vision.

The reality…not so much.

See, the reality is that we seldom begin Family Worship until bedtime or well after bedtime.  I tend to get unreasonable after a certain hour—that’s about the time we usually start.  There’s no time for music, which is fine because my guitar playing is painful for all involved, so we just pray, and it ends up being pretty rote. Occasionally I’ll read Scripture—it takes about thirty minutes to make it through four lines because I am unreasonable and sleepy and because we have raised homeschoolers who like to actually understand what they read.

When the kids were little, we used to all climb up on the bed together for Family Worship. It was cuddly.  These days we are all larger than we used to be, so we end up cramped and cross.  We jostle each other and jockey for position. Holding hands is always entertaining, with teenage siblings in the mix.

At about this time the dog usually comes wandering in to lick any exposed feet, which transports you back from the Throne Room really quickly.  If the offended flesh happens to belong to one of my ladies, screaming and leaping ensues.  Meditation is replaced by pandemonium, and lives are not changed so much as threatened.

And yet…

I’ve got to figure that God is more pleased with our pathetic attempts than with my glorious visions.  We are a real family—frighteningly, annoyingly real—and I know that’s a priority for God. I’m not saying we can’t do better, because I know we can.  He deserves our prime time, not our leftovers. Still, we bring him what we have, and who we are, and he does not turn us away.

As a Dad, I want to be a better leader.  I want to inspire my family, and, frankly, impress them with my spiritual manliosity.  It doesn’t often work out that way.  I’ve heard leadership described like this: If you think you are a leader, take a look behind you.   If someone is following, then you are leading.  If not, then you are just out for a walk.

I look back, and they’re still with me.  So, for better or for worse, I am the spiritual leader of my family.  I will do all I can to do it right, and I will drink deeply of grace.

I’m not pleased with our worship. Praise God, he is.

Sending the kids off to college has me remembering the things I’ve written to them over the years.  I’m going to share a few of those posts this week–the advice seems as pertinent now as ever.  I hope you don’t mind some Daddy musings…

 

Boyo,

One of my favorite stories is The Country of the Blind.  H.G. Wells wrote a tale of a man who finds himself trapped in a village that has been physically cut off from the outside world for centuries. Over the years, the villagers have evolved a brutal congenital defect.

They’re blind.

All of them.

Completely.

Blind like—they’re born without eyes—that kind of blind.

Over the centuries, this village has developed a culture that has no memory, or even understanding, of sight.  Their whole method of societal interaction is based on their other senses.  Even the concept of vision is alien to them.  When the hero encounters these people and makes reference to their blindness, they think he is a nut job.  They are kind and gentle with him, but they have no frame of reference for this so-called “vision” he claims to experience.  In fact, when the doctors examine him, they determine that the hero suffers from some kind of tumors on the front of his face that are causing his insanity.  The treatment? Remove the “tumors.”  Will our intrepid adventurer consent to have his eyes removed so that he can fit in with his new society?  Go read the story and find out. (That’s a trick I learned from writing fourth-grade book reports.  My teacher didn’t like it, either.)

So, Daniel.  Prophet of God/Twenty-Seventh book of the Bible/ show that we have been spending a chunk of our lives on recently. The story of a man with vision who finds himself in a nation that cannot see truth.  Daniel and the other Hebrews are deposited in a land that is spiritually blind.  A land that believes in many gods, but not the one true God.  Because of this, they have no frame of reference for what Daniel is experiencing.  They hear of Daniel’s visions and think in terms of magic, or trickery.  At most, they figure that Daniel is a favorite of one of the many gods they think inhabit the cosmos.

Daniel lived among these people for the bulk of his life.  Though he earned a position of great authority and honor, he was always an outsider, never truly part of the culture that he served.  That’s an uncomfortable place to be, but Daniel didn’t have to remain there. He could have fit in, could have become a regular Babylonian. Fitting in, of course, would have required him to pay a price.

It would have cost him his vision.

I imagine that many of Daniel’s countrymen decided to “go along in order to get along.”  After all, captivity didn’t come because they were overly zealous for God. In the show we sing a song in which all the Hebrews lament,

Is this the end of our great legacy?

…will we be remembered as

The children who would disobey

The men who would refuse to pray?

In reality, I’m willing to bet that most of the Hebrews did not see the captivity for what it really was.  Judgment from God.  Part of an overall plan of redemption. I don’t think many Hebrews could see the truth.  They did not have the vision.  They had chosen blindness.

Can you imagine the pressure Daniel was under to assimilate, to cave in to the culture surrounding him?

Of course you can.  You’re under it, too.

As a follower of Christ, you have a vision that most people do not.  You don’t fit in with society.  You are at odds with the world around you.

And you should be.

Son, if you find yourself lining up with mainstream society on the big issues—insert hot-button topic here—something’s wrong.  You’re not using the vision that has been granted to you as a child of God.

Listen to your old man and do us both a favor.  Take a moment or two–every day–to consider where your attitudes and your actions line up with the vision you’ve been given in Scripture—and where they don’t.  Ask God for the strength to stand up for the truth, even when everyone around you bows down to the lie.

Son of My Heart, the price of fitting in is far too high.  Pray for those in the Country of the Blind, but do not become one of them.

You have your Father’s eyes.  Use them.

Sending the kids off to college has me remembering the things I’ve written to them over the years.  I’m going to share a few of those posts this week–the advice seems as pertinent now as ever.  I hope you don’t mind some Daddy musings…

 

My daughter and I were once in a production of the show Beauty and the Beast at a local community theater.  The heroine of our version is named Rose, not Belle; otherwise the story tracks pretty well with the story you know.

An open letter to my daughter…

Daughter of My Heart,

Since we started this show together, I have noticed a lot of flak out in Cyberland against the Beauty and the Beast story.  Most of it centers on the idea that Rose (Belle, Beauty, whatever you wanna call her) is a bad role model for young women, because she falls in love with the Beast (sort of the epitome of the “Bad Boy”) in the hopes of changing him.  In the Christian world, we call that missionary dating; in the secular world, it’s just stupid and codependent.  These conversations got me thinking about Rose’s character specifically, and in general about the kind of woman I want you to grow into.  I want to tell you why I think that Rose is, in fact, an excellent role model for you.

First, Rose is content—in herself and the knowledge that she is loved—before she ever meets the Beast.  See, the stereotype that people attack is that of a weak, insecure girl who is desperate for love.  She spends her time and her energy looking for someone to complete her, to make her feel loved and special and worthy.  My Daughter, there is so much danger in that. These women can end up in a relationship that is harmful to them because they believe that any relationship is better than no relationship at all.  They are looking for someone else to validate them.

If Rose were like that, I too would point you away from her.  But she is not.  She does not go to the Beast’s castle looking for love—she goes because she already has love.  Her father loves her completely, and she knows this. She goes to the castle to protect him.  She goes as a sacrifice in his place.  Granted, the fact that it is she who is giving herself for him, and not the other way around, offends my Dadly sensibilities.  But the point is, she chooses to go out of love.  She goes, not because she is empty, but because she is overflowing.

That’s what I want for you.  If I do my job right, you will be so full of the knowledge of my love, so completely aware of how amazing you are in my sight, that you will not be needy, you will not need to look to anyone for your sense of worth and tremendous value. And when I fail—we need not chronicle my failures here, but they are numerous and legendary—you will know that you have a Heavenly Father whose perfect love will never fail.  You do not need a prince to make you a princess.  Your Heavenly King has already done that.

Second, Rose does not pretend to see what is not there.  The weak girl sees men through the lens of her own desperation.  She sees indifference and calls it independence.  She sees cruelty and calls it strength.  She sees possessiveness and jealousy and calls them love.  Not Rose.  She looks beyond mere outward appearances—that is one of the central themes of the story—but she does not fabricate goodness where none exists. She makes her judgments based upon what she sees in the Beast—his actions, not his words, not her fantasies.  When she falls in love with him, she falls for the real man inside, not her own projected hopes.

Use your eyes, Sweet Princess of My Heart.  Don’t judge men—or anyone, for that matter—based on what you want them to be.  That is not charity; it is blind foolishness, and it will shackle you to a man who is not worthy of your love.  Look beyond outward appearances, yes.  But look at what is really there.  Look at actions and attitudes, not mere words.  Words are cheap—easily spoken, quickly forgotten.  I could give you examples from my own life, to my own shame.  Love is easy; I want you to have a man you can respect.

Third, Rose does not put up with ill treatment.  The weak girl’s self-esteem tank is on fumes.  She is empty, and she knows it.  Since she gets her sense of value and worth from others, she is desperate for a relationship.  So, she puts up with abuse—be it emotional or physical—rather than being alone.  Because she is empty, there is a level on which she feels that she actually deserves the abuse that she gets.  She puts up with it because she figures it’s the best she will find, and the alternative—loneliness—is unbearable.

Not Rose.  Though she is gentle and kind, she takes no guff.  She has the confidence and self-worth to stand up to the beast; to accept no disrespect. Though it’s not spoken in the story, we get the clear impression that Rose will never settle for anything less than a man who will love and cherish her.  She has known her father’s love, and the Father’s love.  That is enough until God provides more.

Oh, how I want that for you, my Beautiful Girl.  Oh, how I hope and pray that you will know that you are complete and worthy in my sight, and in God’s sight.  There are so many girls out there with “Dad issues”—fathers who were absent physically, emotionally, or spiritually.  It does so much harm, so much damage.  I see these lovely, broken girls and I am resolved that you will never have to wonder if you are loved and cherished and worthy.  You will never feel that the only kind of man you deserve is one that demeans and hurts you.

But I will fall short.  You see, my job is to reflect God’s love to you, to show you who you are in his sight.  But I am only me.  I fail every day.  Thanks be to God, the burden does not rest upon my skinny shoulders.  God himself picks up the abundant slack, and makes up for my considerable failings.  I have had the joy to introduce you to a Father’s love.  As you grow, you will lean less on this splintered reed and more on the Rock of your Salvation.

And I will have done my job.

So, then, there you have it.  Like all great stories, Beauty and the Beast reflects themes of enduring value.  Rose is worthy of admiration and emulation.  She is content in who she is and her own value before God.  She looks for the good in people, but does not fabricate it where it does not exist.  She stands tall, willing to humble herself, but not to be humiliated by others.  You, Daughter of My Heart, are called to the same attitude.  I don’t know who God has in store for you, though I pray for him daily.  But I know that he will love, respect, and cherish you as a woman of God, full of grace and goodness.

And, you know, I have my shotgun loaded…just in case.

Sending the kids off to college has me remembering the things I’ve written to them over the years.  I’m sharing a few of those posts this week–the advice seems as pertinent now as ever.  I hope you don’t mind some Daddy musings…

Seussical, the show my family was part of one summer, has already produced some pithy paternal parental ponderings that I have passed to my progeny to preserve for posterity.

But wait…there’s more.  This one’s for my son.

Hey Boyo,

One of the scariest jobs in Fatherdom is raising children to be emotionally stable grownups.  So I, who was raised in a house full of women, need to somehow steer my way through the dense fog of estrogen to teach my boy how to be a man.  And not just any man, but a man of God.

Good luck, Kid.

In my efforts, I am always on the lookout for good role models for you…and me, for that matter.  It’s not as easy as you may think.  So many of the people our society worships are psychoemotional wrecks.  They confuse cruelty for strength.  They mistake compassion for weakness.  They run from truth in the name of tolerance.

Of course, Jesus is our perfect role model—live your life in reflection of him, and you will make me proud indeed.  But perfection is hard to live up to, and it sometimes helps to have an additional role model who reflects Christ and yet is a little more…ordinary.

I have chosen for you an elephant.

Don’t give me that look.

I have been immersed in this story for months now, and I can’t get away from the message that Horton is, in many ways, the kind of man I want my son to be.

In spite of the whole non-human thing.

A person’s a person, no matter how small.  This is Horton’s mantra throughout the show.  It’s the reason he gives for protecting the Who’s.  There are a couple of things to notice here. First, Horton cares about the little guy.  He shares this trait with our Lord, but not with the world.  Son, the world will tell you that it’s important to make the right connections, to buddy up to those who will help you get ahead.  Take a wander through the gospels and you will find that Jesus did not buy into that philosophy. Neither does Horton.  Horton is willing and eager to protect the weak, even when there is no likelihood that they can pay him back or offer anything the world would call valuable.  Worth noting—Horton commits to saving Who’s before he finds a kindred spirit in Jojo.  That friendship is a blessing he never could have anticipated.

Second, Horton is willing to look beyond outward appearances. The Who planet did not look like an entire people group on the brink of obliteration.  It looked like a speck of dust.  Horton had to be willing to look beyond the surface.  He had to be willing to see the possibilities of the situation.  Son, anyone can see what is.  I want you to be a man who sees what is possible.

Horton also looked beyond the surface in his friendship with Gertrude.  Notice that Horton was not interested in Gertrude’s looks.  In fact, he never even noticed them, to her intense frustration.  What he noticed—finally—was her character.  She was as fierce in her battle to save Horton as he was in protecting the Who’s planet and Mayzie’s egg.

Son, beautiful women are delightful.  God granted me a lady of extraordinary beauty and grace to share my life with, and I say Hooray.

But beauty will not stand beside you when your dreams crash.

Beauty will not forgive you when your foolish sin causes her great pain.

Beauty will not see beyond the man you are to the man God has called you to be.

That takes a Godly heart.  Find such a woman—as your old man did—and hold tightly to her.  And you will find, if you have the wisdom I pray you do, that Godly character and a sweet spirit will become far more beautiful in your eyes than perky plumage.

Biggest blame fool in the jungle of Nool.  To everyone around him—except Gertrude—Horton looked like an absolute idiot.  It’s hard to blame the others.  I mean, a guy sitting on an egg in a tree talking to people who aren’t there?  If I saw that guy downtown, I’d cross on the other side of the street, too.  Horton didn’t let people’s assessment of him get in the way.  He knew his mission, and he followed it.

If you do a Bible study on the word “fool,” you will find that there are two basic kinds of men it is used to describe.  The first is the man who is so sold out to God’s purpose in his life that he doesn’t care what the World says.  The second is the man who is so sold out to the World’s purpose for his life that he doesn’t care what God says.  The first is a fool in the eyes of the World; the second is a fool in the eyes of the one who made the World.

Do us all a favor, Boyo.  Be the first guy.

An elephant’s faithful, one hundred percent.  Horton is utterly devoted to his friends and his egg.  He endures all sorts of hardships and threats to fulfill the promises he has made.

Do that.  Do whatever it takes to keep your promises.  Son, there is no measure to the pain that unfaithful men have caused this world.  It started with Adam’s unfaithfulness to God. It continues today in broken homes, broken lives, broken people.  It is the fight you must fight, if you will be a man of God.

There are so many things that will call you away from your promises.  The daily grind, the passing pleasure, the search for “more”–these will all come, and they will tempt you to break faith with those you love.

Don’t do it.

As Jesus is faithful to you, be faithful to those he has given you.

Oh, by the way.  When the day comes that you meet the woman God has called you to love, there’s something you’d better know. She bears wounds from every man—father, brother, boyfriend—who has ever broken her trust.  To you falls the job of helping God to heal those wounds and repair that heart, so that she can love Christ and you fully and without fear.  It is the most difficult, most frustrating, most worthy job you will ever have.

Have fun with that.

It doesn’t have to be as complicated as it sounds.  Though women are wonderfully mysterious, in this area their need is quite simple.

Stay.

Be there.  When the storms blow.  When the sun shines. Whatever, whenever, just…stay.  That will take you a long way towards being a man.

I guess my endless ramblings could be summed up in just four words.

Boys leave…Men stay.

So, yeah, Horton.  A good one, worthy of emulation.  He cares about the little guy.  He does what is right, no matter what the world says.  He stays.  You could go a long way and not find a better role model.  Be a man like that, and I will be as proud of you then as I am proud of you now.

And I am so proud of you now.

Sending the kids off to college has me remembering the things I’ve written to them over the years.  I’m going to share a few of those posts this week–the advice seems as pertinent now as ever.  I hope you don’t mind some Daddy musings…

My daughter and I once did a production of Seussical the Musical at LifeHouse, our local community theater.  These thoughts arose from that odd and oddly truthful fantasy.  

Hey, Lovely

One of the many ways that you make my life rich is that you nudge me to do things that I would not normally do.

Case in point: Seussical the Musical.

I mean, seriously—a musical based on fever-induced hallucinations?  Why?

Well, now I know. Thanks for the nudge, Kiddo.

Every great story is a reflection of the Great Story of God’s love for us.  That holds true here.  If you keep your eyes and heart open, you can learn great truths, even from an elephant and a few birds.

Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).

Gertrude is a bird in love with an elephant.  This fact presents more problems than we have space to deal with here, so let’s just focus on what she sees as the biggest issue—he doesn’t notice her. Gertrude assumes that Horton is not interested because of her looks (it never seems to occur to her that he might, I don’t know, be more interested in she-elephants).  As you know, Gertrude is a rather plain-looking little bird with “A one-feather tail.”  She decides that she needs a little help, so she follows the advice of Mayzie, a beautiful but ultimately empty creature.  Mayzie sends Gertrude to a doctor, where the glamour, attention, and, ultimately love that she craves is “All for sale.” Convinced that this will win her Horton’s attention, Gertrude gets the Seuss version of plastic surgery to augment her assets.

She buys the lie—and nearly ruins everything.

Ding ding ding goes the irony bell.  Gertrude is not interested in Horton because of his looks.  She tells us that she fell for him when she noticed his, “kind and powerful heart.”  And yet she assumes that Horton will only be interested in her if she looks the right way.

Hmmm…

You see—oh, please tell me you see this—Gertrude’s new tail wasn’t really Gertrude at all.  Sure it looked good, but it was too big to allow her to fly.  It took away more than it gave.  The price Gertrude paid for beauty was a loss of her identity.  She became “beautiful” in the eyes of the world, but she was no longer Gertrude.

Baby Girl, don’t ever fall into the lie of thinking that you have to be something else in order to be attractive.  First of all, if you go that route, you will never be satisfied.  If you think thin is pretty, you’ll never be thin enough.  If you think blonde is pretty—though you know I prefer redheads—there will never be hair color enough.  If you think taller, or shorter, is what you need, there will never be heels high enough or flats flat enough to make you who you think you need to be.

Which brings me to the Second of all.  You are hand-formed by the God of the Universe, and he has made you to be exactly the girl you are.   Your size, your shape, your skin, your hair, your eyes, were all designed by the One who loves you most and knows you best. You are perfect in his sight—why mess with perfection? If you had moles the size of cows or an extra nostril—OK, we might get those fixed, but you see where I’m going here.

Now, am I saying that you can’t use a little makeup, or wear pretty clothes?  Am I saying that girls who are not blessed with red hair can’t try a little color, just for fun?  No.  But be aware of why you make…augmentations.

Is it because it makes you feel pretty, and it’s fun to look your best?  Great.

Is it because maybe this dress, these shoes, this makeup, this diet, will get you the attention you desperately crave?

Dangerous.

Color me Crazy-Dad, but today’s diet leads to tomorrow’s eating disorder, if it’s done for the wrong reasons. Today’s makeup becomes tomorrow’s plastic surgery.  Today’s loss of self will be tomorrow’s despair.

Horton, of course, finally notices Gertrude.  However, it doesn’t happen until after she has ditched the new tail—a painful process—and returned to being herself.  It’s the inner person—brave, selfless, giving—that wins the pachyderm’s passionate praise.

That’s the last thing I want to point out to you today.  Horton sees the real Gertrude—it takes a little while, but he sees her—and he loves her.  He’s not concerned with what she “lacks.”  He’s not concerned with how she looks.  He loves her heart.

Hear me, Daughter of My Heart.  If you ever feel pressured to change who you are for the love of a man, then he is not the man for you.  The man who tries to change you into someone else is not worth having.  Bring him to me, and I will teach him to look at a person’s insides…starting with his own.

The man worth having will be looking for what is in your heart.  He will see you as Christ sees you, and love you as Christ loves you. Find that man, and bring him to me…and I’ll let you know.