A Troubling Declaration

So it turns out that I don’t have enough time in a weekend to do my paying job (pastor), playing the role of mom and to do my non-paying job (blog-writer).  For some pre-thought on my role as “mom” for the weekend, check this out. 

We had a blast this weekend.  We had a sleepover upstairs.  The three of us piled up matresses, blankets, beanbags, etc.  We watched movies and fell asleep.  (I woke up at 3:30 and decided that I wasn’t really sleeping and went downstairs.)  We also played the “Gimme That Fish” McDonalds commercial on Youtube no fewer than 25 times over the weekend.  We played with friends, won two basketball games, had a great weekend of church services.  It was great.

However, there was one moment that still sticks out it my head that I just can’t shake.  Maylee and I were taking Lauren to soccer practice and as we were pulling in she asked if we were going to stay and watch.  She said in such a way that made it pretty clear that she didn’t want us to stay.  So I’m trying to get out of her why she doesn’t want us to stay.  She is embarassed because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Finally, she says this, “If I make a bad kick, I don’t want you to see it.”  I am going to confess to you that I was crushed.  (If you know her, don’t bring this up to her).  She didn’t want me to see her mess up.  She is hard on herself, very hard on herself.  I would like to think that I am an encouraging dad.  I would like to think that I am “better than most.”  I think that she is great and a great soccer player.  I try to tell her that all of the time.

However, I also correct her when she does something wrong, especially if it comes from a lack of focus or hustle.  Apparently those corrections add up in her mind, and she would rather avoid them, at least during practice.

So what does this mean?  If anything, Dads, you cannot overestimate the power of your words when you talk to your daughters (I assume the same applies for sons.  I wouldn’t know first-hand).  Everything that you say matters and she takes it in.  Everything.  Her view of herself is largely determined by your view of her.  I am now reevaluating everything I say.  I want to be incredibly encouraging.  Even when I feel I need to correct her behavior, I am thinking, “What does my facial expression look like?  What is my tone?  What encouraging comment can I tag this with?”

Maybe I am about to over-correct and be “too easy” on her.  Guess what?  I don’t care.  I could live the next 50 years of my life and I would be just fine without hearing her say that with that look on her face again.  This was a great reminder for me of something Robert Lewis says that I pass on to you, “Dad is destiny.”  What we say, they become.