By James Kissinger
“My heart started to race, and my palms grew damp. I walked down the bus aisle to the tiny restroom in the rear and washed up in the metal basin. I studied my face in the mirror and wondered what New Yorkers would think when they looked at me. Would they see an Appalachian hick, a tall, gawky girl, still all elbows and knees and jutting teeth? For years dad had been telling me I had an inner beauty. Most people didn’t see it. I had trouble seeing it myself, but Dad was always saying he could damn well see it and that was what mattered. I hope when New Yorkers looked at me, they would see whatever it was that Dad saw.”
The above excerpt is from a book I just finished reading, The Glass Castle, by Jeanette Walls. This passage struck a chord with me, because I have my own “ugly duckling” at home. Actually, she’s not at all an ugly duckling, she’s beautiful. But she doesn’t see it. Audrey is eleven years old and when she looks in the mirror she sees curly hair where she wants straight. Crooked teeth and braces. Spindly legs and no curves. She doesn’t see beauty.
In the book, the author recounts her childhood years growing up in a highly dysfunctional family. Her dad was an alcoholic and disappeared from their lives for days and weeks at a time. Her mom left the children to fend for themselves. The family lived in conditions of neglect, poverty and a perpetual state of transit that few of us could imagine. It strikes me that in these deplorable conditions, and with a weakened position of authority in his children’s lives, this poor excuse for a father, Rex Walls, was still able to instill some sense of worth, of beauty, in his daughter’s heart. It leads me to the question, how much more can I do as an involved, engaged, committed father?
So back to Audrey. I was bringing her home from choir practice this past Thursday and she says to me, “Dad, the only time I feel confident is when I have straight hair.” A few days earlier, on the way to school, she’d asked her mom, “Will I ever be pretty like you?” That’s where we are today … but this isn’t about two questions. Audrey has always had self-esteem issues. While our society certainly doesn’t help with a never ending barrage of images of what girls “should” look like, I believe some children are inherently prone to self-doubt. Audrey’s issues are more deep-rooted than just physical appearance, but that is where her insecurities are manifesting themselves as she enters adolescence. And so I have a child who doesn’t see her beauty, physical or otherwise, when she looks in the mirror, and I’m left with the question, “How do I help her see what I see inside? What I see on the outside? What God sees period?” These are the questions for which I’m trying to find answers.
Audrey and I have always been close, the foundation has been laid. Imperfect, but solid. She’s a daddy’s girl, she still listens to what I say, and I know that’s a big part of the battle. But things are changing, I sense it. Her mom and I are no longer the sole influence on her life. Friends, teachers, media – they all reach her. They all vie for her attention. Some feed her truth while others feed her half-truths and lies. It’s my job as her dad to help her sift through the images to find who she is. That’s why I’m sitting by a fire on a cold winter’s night, collecting my thoughts.
I’ll admit it … I have the male disease, the affliction. I want to fix things. I haven’t deluded myself to the point that I think I can do it all by myself, or all at once, but I do think I can help — so I’ve been working on a plan. It’s a simple plan, consisting of only two steps. The first step involves me, the second step involves others.
Step One: The Weekend. I’m planning a weekend getaway for Audrey and me with one purpose in mind … helping her see where her beauty lies. For all the mistakes I’ve made as a parent, there’s one thing I’ve done well: made one on one time a priority. The benefit now is that a getaway is the norm. It’s comfortable. Non-threatening. Conversation flows easily between us, and it’s a weekend that’ll be heavy on talks. Talks in the vehicle on the way there. Talks over dinner. Talks in bed. Planting seeds. We’ll talk about junior high. We’ll talk about boys. We’ll talk about the things she brings to our family. We’ll talk about friends. We’ll talk about God. We’ll talk about life.
This weekend will be her “launch” into adolescence. It’ll be deliberate, I’ll explain to her why it’s important … it’s important because she’s important.
Step Two: The “Influencers.” Currently, there are a handful of people who hold the same values as her mom and I that carry a lot of sway with Audrey. People she looks up to that influence her thinking. Sam and Sarah, her cell group leaders at church, are two of those people. They’re teenage girls, they’re cool, but most importantly, they’re interested in her. Natalie, her 22 year old cousin, is another. Audrey holds these girls in high regard. She seeks their approval. As an engaged father, I owe it to Audrey to let these girls know where her heart is. Where she can use encouragement. Let them know how they touch my daughter’s life, thanking them for making a difference to a young girl and encouraging them to stay involved. It takes only a small effort on my part, but pays big dividends for my little girl.
I’ll be honest – I’m looking forward to the next few years of helping Audrey grow into a young lady. Being daddy to my girls is both an awesome responsibility and a wonderful privilege. I’m a little scared, but to know that I can affect the way my daughter views herself gives me resolve and hope. Resolve to help her see her beauty. Hope that she sees what I see. What God sees. What’s really there.
