This weekend my teen daughter was honored with an invitation to sing at a morning service at our place of worship. It was an honor few kids are offered, and she enthusiastically accepted this call to serve.
A weekend service typically runs 2.5 hours. I identify and affiliate with my community and find it a source of comfort and connectedness, but I am more irreverent than pious by nature, so this would not be where I'd typically choose to spend a precious weekend morning.
My wife and I went to support our daughter and enjoy her music. In between songs, she came and sat next to me and we chatted intermittently in hushed voices.
During one particularly long stretch, I looked through a large window at a nearby outdoor patio and reminisced to her about a milestone event we had celebrated a couple of years earlier. She loves to tease me about that event, because when it came time for me to give a speech, I choked up.
My daughter, in contrast, tends to be all poise when she stands before a crowd. She spoke lovingly at her grandfather's funeral, sharing memories she treasured without losing her composure or coming off as overly sentimental.
Dad, my friends say that the day you gave your speech, when your voice broke up and you started crying, they couldn't stop themselves from crying, too.
I smiled. She is my most honest critic, and she particularly relishes skewering those moments when my inner sap is most visible and vulnerable.
They had the same dopey smile you're wearing now.
Spend an hour with my dad, I told them, and I guarantee he'll cry in that hour. He cries at commercials and other people's toddler photos. He's ridiculous.
She gave me a smile of acknowledgment, her I know you smile. There was a hint of superiority in it, but I didn't mind.
She knows me.
These five minute moments help me transcend the eye rolls and the divisive tactics that attempt to split my wife and I.
They are going to leave.
We are going to die.
There are five minutes each day when they drop their guard, speak their minds, and have the time and inclination to open up.
To be around for those five minutes, I took a risk with my career and (when, thankfully, it worked out) cut my income in half.