God speaks to us, so often, in the most off-beat and unexpected of ways.

This Sunday morning, the wife of our youth pastor put on a “tea party” for the middle school girls during service, and titled the event, “How He Loves Us.”  It was a very sweet event, and I was blessed to be able to attend and sit with my daughter, since I volunteer with the ministry.

The highlight of the morning was an exercise within which the girls were asked to look in a mirror and ask God for one word that describes what he sees in them.  They were then to take that word and write it on a rock that symbolized our old nature, with a “new name” written over it (based loosely off of Revelations 2:17).  You could see, especially in the younger girls, the self-consciousness in the room, as the girls looked blankly at each other, whispering back and forth, what are you going to put on your rock?”

My daughter looked blankly at me, then scrunched up her face and, frankly, cheated.  Daughter, she wrote—the phrase the speaker had repeated over and over in the last ten minutes.  “A daughter of the king.”  I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I know what he sees in you.”  She looked at me quizzically.  “What?” she asked.

“Pretty Girl,” I told her, knowing the deepest questions on her heart at this stage in life, and knowing in my heart His answers to her.

“That’s just what you think,” she responded, shaking her head.

“Nope.  That’s what God sees,” I whispered back.  “He sees what you don’t see.  Inside and out.”

She brushed me off, then asked what I planned to put on my rock.  As I’d not participated in the exercise, and as I was pretty much emotionally spent at the moment, I shrugged my shoulders.  “I know what to put on your rock,” she said, reaching for it.  “Can I?”  I passed it to her, shrugging again, curious to see what my daughter would write.

And then she floored me.

I expected something, well, to be quite frank, inane.  I expected “Beautiful” or “Caring” or “Creative,” something that one would expect their daughter to write about them on a rock.  The typical “make you mom feel better about herself” stuff that kids say, knowing it’s the “right” thing to say.  My rock, to my great surprise, said nothing of the kind.

Servant, my rock read.

I cocked my head back, a quizzical look on my face.  My initial response was of both curiosity, and, quite honestly, a bit of annoyance. “That’s an interesting word, Bub,” I replied.  “What made you choose that word?”

“Because you’re always helping people, you know?  You help people—and you make them feel better,” she told me, a matter-of-fact smile on her face. I half-smiled back, with a half-chuckle thrown in for good measure. Interesting…

I reflected for the next hour or two on my “word.”  Given that I’d just spent time talking with a friend and coworker on Friday about the struggle I felt, in this stage of life, between death to self and taking care of self, my thoughts weren’t entirely positive.  Servant?  As in, “indentured?”  As in, “one who serves others?”  As in, “menial slave labor?”  As in, Well done, good and faithful… I heard in the back of my head.

That was unexpected.

I wanted to shake it off, like my daughter did the word I gave her.  It still doesn’t sit well, and I’ve yet to determine if that was really God, or simply 35 years of Bible verse memorization coming into play.  My own words come back into my head.  That’s what God sees.  He sees what you don’t see.  Inside and out.  I hate it when God speaks to me in my own voice.

I quit analyzing it, and I put the rock on my writing desk.

Sometimes, it takes other people to see and call out the things we cannot. Inner beauty.  Strength.  Courage.  Sacrifice.  That my daughter saw this in me, well—that in and of itself is humbling.  That God gave it to her to speak, that—well, that is truly a gift.

As for the meaning of my word, and the application of it, the verdict is still out.  I would be remiss to not confess that it still chafes a bit.  But perhaps, if I continue to ask, God will reveal the beauty of this word—that which God sees that I don’t see, that I can’t see.  Perhaps, if I continue to seek, God will show me how to align my heart with that vision, that calling, that “new name.”

And perhaps, if I continue to reflect on this word “known only to the one who will receive it,” I will eventually wear the new name well.

And that would be the best gift of all.

inspiration motherhood overload parenthood raising girls reflection spiritual spiritual growth