to see with the father's eyes
I brought some of our old home videos back to school with me; the ones I grabbed are from '98-'99, with Macaela as a toddler and me just turning 4 years old. I pulled it off my shelf for the first time this week because I just wanted to see Dad, see his goofiness, see his gestures and expressions.
As I started watching, it was mostly just footage of Macaela and me. The more I watched, the more it seemed like it was just me, me, me. Me holding a jack-o-lantern, me shooting a basketball, me frosting a birthday cake, me singing "Jesus Loves Me." I got frustrated. I didn't need to see more of myself, I didn't watch this to see me. I want to see Dad.
But I could hear his voice, always the loudest because he was holding the video camera. He was filming. And I realized that each shot was what he wanted to record, what he saw as lovely and beautiful. His photographer's eye came through in the occasional panorama shot of a California mountainside, but it was usually not that. Usually, he was filming us, he was watching me.
By watching these videos of myself, I am looking through his eyes. I'm seeing myself the way he saw me.
Oh, it would be such a gift to me if there was more footage of Dad; I still just want more. But I realized for the first time this week that his gift to me was not turning the camera onto himself, but turning it onto me. His gift was the chance to see from his point of view, to see how much he loved me, he loved us.
Oh, I was given such a stunning and tragically rare gift, a father who made me feel like a gem, feel like we were the most important girls in the world, feel like I was beautiful even in the days when I didn't think I was.
And it is all the more beautiful a gift because he has taught me how my true, heavenly Father sees me. How my Father looks on me in the same tenderness, protectiveness, joy, and pride.
I think we all struggle to truly know how God sees us, or we struggle to visualize and believe it. If I were to try to picture how God sees me, I would probably just end up coming up with words that I can pull from well-known Scriptures, but wouldn't really see anything. But it turns out that in order for it to feel real, for our minds to accept it as reality, we need to be able to visualize it.
So maybe from now on, when I try to imagine how God sees me, I will think of video clips of an almost-4-year-old dancing in the backyard, learning to pedal a bike, singing a song, and walking down the hallway to marry dad. And maybe my dad here on earth, the goofy one with the video camera, will be the one who helps me see myself like God does, who loves me because I am his child. Who doesn't care if I get the ball in the basket, who will push me up the hill on my bike, who records me singing over and over again until I would sing it looking at him so he can see my face, who cheers me on at every chance.
Yes, God loves us that much. More, in fact.
Oh, to see with the Father's eyes.
But I could hear his voice, always the loudest because he was holding the video camera. He was filming. And I realized that each shot was what he wanted to record, what he saw as lovely and beautiful. His photographer's eye came through in the occasional panorama shot of a California mountainside, but it was usually not that. Usually, he was filming us, he was watching me.
By watching these videos of myself, I am looking through his eyes. I'm seeing myself the way he saw me.Oh, it would be such a gift to me if there was more footage of Dad; I still just want more. But I realized for the first time this week that his gift to me was not turning the camera onto himself, but turning it onto me. His gift was the chance to see from his point of view, to see how much he loved me, he loved us.
Oh, I was given such a stunning and tragically rare gift, a father who made me feel like a gem, feel like we were the most important girls in the world, feel like I was beautiful even in the days when I didn't think I was.And it is all the more beautiful a gift because he has taught me how my true, heavenly Father sees me. How my Father looks on me in the same tenderness, protectiveness, joy, and pride.
I think we all struggle to truly know how God sees us, or we struggle to visualize and believe it. If I were to try to picture how God sees me, I would probably just end up coming up with words that I can pull from well-known Scriptures, but wouldn't really see anything. But it turns out that in order for it to feel real, for our minds to accept it as reality, we need to be able to visualize it.
So maybe from now on, when I try to imagine how God sees me, I will think of video clips of an almost-4-year-old dancing in the backyard, learning to pedal a bike, singing a song, and walking down the hallway to marry dad. And maybe my dad here on earth, the goofy one with the video camera, will be the one who helps me see myself like God does, who loves me because I am his child. Who doesn't care if I get the ball in the basket, who will push me up the hill on my bike, who records me singing over and over again until I would sing it looking at him so he can see my face, who cheers me on at every chance.Yes, God loves us that much. More, in fact.
Oh, to see with the Father's eyes.
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