Unguarded Moments of Weariness

My friend muses on is relationship with his eldest daughter off at college for her birthday. Rob is a gifted writer and Scot McKnight once wrote me saying that Rob had insights into the people like few do. Here's my favorite part of Rob's reflection.

Today is my older daughter’s birthday. How I tell her that I love her is between the two of us; it is her choice to share those words if and as she chooses. But how would I tell you how much I love her?

I’d tell you about worshipping with my little girl (who is now neither little or a girl) yesterday. She’s a kid who burns the candle at both ends, and does so long into the night. Between her studies, her activities, her friendships, and now a boyfriend as well, she pretty much always has something going. She is tired, and in unguarded moments the weariness shows for those who know how to look for it—and sometimes even to those who don’t. But she makes time for her old man, and for the Old Man (to use an ageist and sexist reference to our Creator that I hope you will grant me the grace to pardon), and both are gifts I do not take lightly.

She is also old enough now to have learned the hard way at least a little bit of something about life’s disappointments, heartache, sorrow, and loss. She has learned these things because she has cultivated the ability to care deeply; to be mindful of others, of what is important in the world, and of how the two intersect in her relationships. Ours is one of those relationships, and though our relationship could easily take a back seat at this stage in her life, she is careful (care full) to do more than conveniently work me in as she can, making the effort and sacrifice necessary to share her life with mine and allowing me to share mine with her. Is there any greater privilege one human being can give another than that?

The line, "She is tired, and in unguarded moments the weariness shows for those who know how to look for it" made my eyes swell. I can picture this for my kids. Can you? A busy room might not notice the fragile subtleness of our children, but a caring father does. Here is a father who knows his daughter because he's watched her for years and has insight only a father can have. In a world where kids are ignored, or abandoned because of over involved and over committed parents, this is a nice change of pace.

Here's Rob's whole post.