A Daughter

There is no handbook for being a good daughter. In school they tell you what to do and you progressively learn how to succeed. Similarly, you progressively learn how to be a good friend, and you actually receive a manual as to "how to be a sister". (If you've happened to misplaced your copy you always have a back-up encoded in your DNA). As I truely think about what it means to be a daughter, the only thing that comes to mind is that being a daughter means that you belong to someone. Being a daughter means that I came from somewhere. 

I am a daughter. I have some of my mom and some of my dad genetically encoded into me. I have their characteristics developed in me, and I have their love and compassion shared in me. When I really get laughing I have this cackle laugh that sounds just like my mom. Every once and awhile I can hear some of my dad's jokes and sense of humor creep from my lips {then I try to quickly suck it back in, but usually by then the damage is done}. I can hear my dad's soothing tones and comfort exit my lips as I comfort friends and situations. Depending on the type of day that I've had, I can hear my moms sarcasm and sassiness through various things when I am quick to snap with my tongue. I have some of my mom and some of my dad genetically, developed, and shared in me. The good, the bad, the cute, and the ugly. {Mom would be quick to say that 'the ugly' is from my dad's side.}

I am the daughter of two wonderful people who have raised, cared, sacrificed, and every other verb you can possibly think of. They have done it all. They have done it with a heart that I can not know, and because it is so foreign I can't comprehend or even begin to appreciate them to the possible level that they deserve. That's not really fair, is it? Maybe, just maybe I will not be able to fully understand my role as a daughter until I have one of my own. Therefore, this blog post is not accurate or fully representative of what it means to be a daughter.

Looking at childhood art fascinates me. Kids naturally have a way of expressing themselves through their art classes and as I walk up and down five different elementary school hallways, I can't help but stop and admire the art that lines every hallway of every school. So much of my childhood creativity happened with crayons. These mish-mashes of imagination would end up on Daddy's desk for years, or decorate the refrigerator for quite a period of time. They were almost guaranteed to have a rainbow on them in some way shape or form. Always a rainbow in the sky, or a person in a rainbow dress, or even a rainbow colored soccer ball. The more color the better. {If that's not foreshadowing of my personality today, I don't know what is}
As a daughter of the King, I sometimes envision my twenty-something year old self running up to the Father figure with my accomplishments, my work of art, with the best that I have. When I really step back and look they are mere scribblings, masterpieces of finger-painting, abstract and colored out of the lines, nothing to be proud of. What does the Father do? They are proudly displayed on His refrigerator {and what a huge thing that would be... can you fathom all the different kinds of food goin' on up in there? Koshary, chow mein, chili con carne, hamburgers. There I go again, thinking about food...} No matter how old we are, or how much experience we have, anything we bring will be that of childish quality, for we will always be His children. And He will always be the Father who proudly displays these tokens of His children.

I have this student who talks. She talks a lot. She also talks at this incredibly slow pace and stutters over her words. Therefore, it takes her a solid 30 seconds to spit out two sentences. To top things off, the majority of the time the sentences which she speaks has absolutely nothing to do with music, the flute, or what we're talking about in any way. It is actually quite comical in a way. As I think about the patience and the level of listening that has to occur with this student, it is a perfect image of what the Father does for us. He is the one who always patiently listens to our babbeling (ranting, venting, begging, complaining, moaning, whining...admit it) that has nothing to do with the master plan. What a Dad. 

I guess instead of deciphering what it means to be a daughter, to really get a better picture means analyzing where one comes from. See, if daughters come from somewhere, that means that they are somewhat defined by who they come from. It is also important for daughters to realize where they truely came from. They come from the One who will always provide this.

daughter (noun)

1. a female child or person in relation to her parents.

2. any female descendant.

3. a person related as if by the ties binding daughter to parent: daughter of the church.

4. anything personified as female and considered with respect to its origin: The United States is the daughter of the13 colonies.

5. an isotope formed by radioactive decay of another isotope.