Boy Prayer
June 29th, 2017 by MC
Two nights ago, my little daughter had a fever. She asked me if I could say “a boy prayer.”
“What’s a boy prayer?” I asked.
“It’s where you put your hands on my head and you say a prayer for me. Only boys can do them.”
I’m grateful for the restored power and authority to give boy prayers for my family.
TWS
June 29, 2017
That is so sweet. Girls always grab daddy’s heart.
Bruce Charlton
June 30, 2017
I find this post very charming; but also deep and rather serious – even wide-ranging – in its implications.
Bookslinger
June 30, 2017
I am tempted to mock AALM and that ilk, with what would be a stereotypical rejoinder, but …. no.
Children can see truth and sense spirit without jaded lenses, or culturally-biased reinterpretations. Would that we all could be so child-like.
It’s as true for one’s first language as it is for the second, comprehension comes before the ability to express.
But the fact remains, SJWs make even children offenders for a word.
James
June 30, 2017
The other night I took my four year-old daughter to a Scout court of honor. At one point they needed a volunteer to help, and she stepped forward before any of the Cub Scouts. She was so very proud to help, and for a moment my hear sank, just a little, that she would not participate in scouting like a son would.
Now, there are myriad opinions, approaches and solutions to this, none of which I hope to address, because what I really got out of it came next:
I realized that I had a very real responsibility: to help my daughter find her place in the world as a daughter of God, without any personal experience to rely on. Sure, I know fairly well what it takes to become an Eagle Scout, but a Young Woman of Excellence? Not a clue. The task seemed daunting, and yet afforded a real sense of purpose.
I then thought, how much easier -and yet less fulfilling-
would it be to react as so many others and insist that the program change to suit my situation? What must it be like, and how sad an existence, to always pull challenges down to one’s height, rather than rise to the occasion? How tragic to only fight for oneself and never AGAINST oneself, in the hope of being better? How utterly useless an existence, to always fight for oneself, and never anyone or anything better, larger, grander?