So you’re a dad, and part of your “daddly chores” is dropping your 7 year-old daughter off at dance class. She takes two classes back to back, so you drop off and mom picks her up later.
“Remember she wants you to stay and watch her. Just stick around a while before you leave,” my wife tells me.
I follow my Ellie into the building and find a comfortable chair next to all the other moms. I’m the only guy in the room. I can sit and watch through a glass that runs the length of the rehearsal room. My strategy is I’ll watch about 5 minutes and then pick a moment when she’s not looking and slip out. I’ve got to teach a Bible study later tonight.
Well, that’s my excuse, at least. I’m all prepared to teach it, but I don’t want to spend all afternoon soaking up the excess estrogen in this room.
The class begins and I sit back to watch. That’s when something magical occurs.
My daughter, in her little blue leotard, is not just beautiful. As she begins doing her elegant arm exercises, one up over her head then another out in front of her bending so slightly at the elbow, she is suddenly resplendent. She becomes something akin to an icon of all that is innocent and beautiful.
I snap some photos, but I see quickly they will not do justice to the moment. I’m shooting through that glass and from too far away. It will be grainy and blurry.
I wish there was a way to take photos and store them in your head, just the way I see her at this moment. This is a picture I hope I never forget the rest of my life.
What I meant to be 5 minutes just to make her happy now turns into 20, then 30. A peace comes over me like you’d experience looking at great art in a world-class museum. Watching her glide across the floor is better than meditating or yoda. I think it must be the perfect storm of beauty and art embodied in someone you love more than your own life.
Suddenly God sits beside me, whispering gently. He is gently nudging aside the worries I’d been obsessing over earlier in the day. All is still and at peace in my heart for this one perfect moment.
God reminds me this is what He feels watching me when I’m performing in my own gifts. I roll my eyes at that thought, but He assures me that’s how he sees me. I guess it makes sense. My Ellie is not perfect, and her technique has a long way to go for sure.
But watching her in this moment, I understand a bit of the joy God might get from watching us. No matter how old we are, to God we are just children, dancing and watching our Daddy out of the corner of our eyes.
