Flowing Glory

We’re sitting here having these conversations, my little girl and I. My eighteen year old, grown up daughter who absolutely amazes me with her grace, depth, and beauty. We spend an hour looking over her art pieces, diving into the meanings and the stories and the exposure some pieces force on her. I see the tears well in her eyes as she experiences the nakedness of having her work observed, as she imagines a stranger’s eyes perusing what she has poured into her art. I am so proud of the readiness, the willingness in her to step out, to find courage and be seen. I hear her speak of the soulful strokes of her hands on the page and the depth of emotion that was released. She is my precious daughter, the woman I adore, and I am stunned by the capacities of her heart.

The next night we sit at the kitchen table sharing faith. Instead of seeing scripture through the eyes of a strict, condemning God, we talked about the revelation of the past four or five years in seeing through the compassionate eyes of Jesus. I hear the freedom in her voice, the excitement at being able to hear a verse spoken and instantly to pick up on the tone of grace. How habit that used to draw a straight, narrow minded line of disappointment and disgust into the words of Christ, are now abolished, replaced with the flowing glory of love’s tender words in scripture.

She shares her heart with me, entrusting more and more in the solid ties that bind us. I see the tears she’s often tried to hold back, now releasing in the safe place she is starting to trust. I hear her vulnerability being offered to me as equals, she as my little girl who has become this incredible young woman. I hear her wisdom. I feel her compassion. I taste her joy. I witness her honor. And I am blessed beyond all measure by her presence.