Baptized In Pink and Blue

God has not given me a shortage of testosterone.  I’ve lost count of the number of times Ashley has told me—in the last month—“You’re such a guy.” I can’t help it. I like manly activities. I’m a sports nut, wrestling coach, war movie fan, and I like to hunt—especially prairie dogs. If you shoot them in the right place they will do a complete flip and land flat on their backs…

…And I’m pretty sure I just heard a few ladies gasp.

I’m also a man who has been baptized in the world of girl over the past few years as God has given me Avery and Sophie as daughters. This is foreign territory to me. I didn’t grow up with sisters. Pink was not a color that ever appeared at the Jenkins’ house when I was a young boy. And princesses? I thought “Snow White” was a flavor of snow cone served at the State wrestling tournament.

My head sank deeper into the pink and blue waters on Christmas morning as my daughters opened present after present. The theme was pretty consistent—Cinderella. I guess I was unaware of how many products could be produced from one character. Disney must be making a fortune….from us. Never the less, you can imagine what I have spent a good portion of my Christmas break doing. And I love it.

It’s amazing how long Avery can sit there and play with those plastic figurines. Sometimes I get a little antsy after a long stretch of making up dialogue between the princess dolls. I think it’s similar to a coffee drinker going without coffee, you start getting the shakes. One minute Cinderella is complimenting Ariel’s beautiful dancing, and the next has her giving a head fake and shooting a beautiful double leg takedown.  Ariel always seems caught off guard; Avery always looks at me like I’m crazy.

I do know that I’m crazy about my daughters.  I love spending time with them. If it means being submersed in a world that’s completely new to me, well, bring it on. God has actually used my passion for my daughters to teach me some important lessons recently. I was giving Sophie a bear hug the other day and telling her how much I love her when I sensed God speak something to my own heart.

“I wish you would let me love you like that.”

He had a point. I’m an intense guy, so I’m usually going from one thing to the next. I don’t pause and simply let the Father love me like he wants to. I guess I fail to use common sense: If I’m passionate about spending time with my girls, and God’s heart is so much better than mine, how much more passionate must he be about spending time with his children?

He is a brilliant communicator. He waits for the most opportune time to communicate his truth, and then BAM….He drops it out of the blue—and it penetrates. At the exact time when I was thinking, “Sophie, I wish you knew how much I loved you”, he whispers, “I know what you mean.”

All I can do is laugh. I don’t know how else to respond.

Except maybe to sit back and let him give me a bear hug.