Well, I did what can only be considered an act of sacrificial love done as only a father could do for his daughter. It’s true, I did it. I bit the bullet. I took one for the team. I laid down my life (or at least my relaxing Sunday evening). What, pray tell, you ask, did I do for my daughter? What could be so extraordinarily generous to rate this level of verbosity? Well…
I took my daughter – just her and me – to see the Hannah Montana movie.
I did it for her, you see. She’s worth it. My daughter is one of the best people I know. She’s tender-hearted and responsible, so I was willing to swallow my grown male pride and take her to see this movie she so desperately wanted to see.
“And so this outpouring of sacrificial love is your confession?”, you ask. Not exactly.
The confession is this: I liked the movie.
There, I said it. And, it’s true.
As a dad I saw a father/daughter relationship where his “little girl” is growing up and trying to be her own person. My daughter turns 13 this week – I can relate. I saw people giving more attention to the superficial make-believe person than they did to the person under the wig. I thought about how often we feel the need to pretend to be someone we’re not in order to get people to notice us, both because we don’t take the time to know each other except in superficial ways and secondly, because we’re afraid to show people who we really are. I also saw Barry Bostwick doing this crazy dance at the end – and that was just funny.
Mostly I enjoyed taking time to share a decent movie with my daughter. They grow up really fast. I guess that’s why I really enjoyed the father/daughter duet in the movie.
Anyway, not a deep theological discussion of Easter as you might expect, just me sharing a good Easter memory.
Holy high five to you (and happy birthday Becca), Mike.