Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Worth It

At the birthday party last night we gathered around and watched as our 11, 8, and 3 year old sons sang and danced to all the Barbie songs. They twirled and spun, we cooed and clapped. Ahem. What's wrong with this picture? It was our daughters, not our sons of course. They wanted to know, "Do you see me? Am I lovely?" It's not so much that the boys don't want to be seen, but boys from a very young age want to be seen doing something like smacking down their brother with a sword or throwing a ball through a hoop (which is pretty close to what they were doing when they weren't messing up the girls' performance). Girls from a very young age want to bee seen themselves, to draw attention not to what they do, but what they are. And they are lovely.

This is not to say that boys and girls are altogether different. John Eldredge identifies 3 desires in a man's soul: a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue; and 3 desires in a woman's soul: to be fought for, to share an adventure, and to unveil a beauty. His book for men, Wild at Heart, is brilliant. His wife Stasi's new book for women, Captivating, is simply stunning. Since they started waking the world to these things a few years ago, what I have looked around and found is that for the most part, it's true—right down the line—these are how a man's soul and a woman's soul are different and complementary. However, there are some crossovers. Just like men have much higher levels of testosterone than women, but women do have testosterone—women do have a desire to fight a battle, although it is a greater desire in men. And just like women have much higher levels of estrogen, but men do have estrogen—men have a desire to be rescued, although it is a greater desire in women.

When I was maybe 8 or 9, we had a softball throw competition at the city park. I had a lousy arm, still do. Those years I thought I was doomed to be a social outcast as a wimp's wimp because I couldn't throw and I wasn't very fast. In fact, I can remember crying myself to sleep because a kid named Matt had everything: not only could he punt, pass, and kick, but he was fast and he was fast and he was, well, he was fast. My mother had no idea what to do but give me a pep talk and laugh about my juvenile worries. I was devastated. It wasn't until later that I found my athletic prowess in another area: I was a pretty good running back, good enough to make the Varsity football team my sophomore year and rush for 100+ yards a game, making me the king of the world! Oh, excuse me. Where was I? Oh yeah. It was my turn to throw the softball. I already knew what was coming. I stepped up and threw it, and it went some puny distance. Everyone laughed. Someone cackled, "Is that as far as you can throw it?" Waves of embarrassment washed over me, and I could already feel myself withering. But all of a sudden, a friend of mine (who was to become a lifelong friend of mine) stepped up and said, "Of course not you dummies. Does he look like he was straining?!" Inside I had two thoughts: Hmm, that might actually be about as far as I can throw it, and Wow—it's great to have a friend like that. I was rescued. And it meant a lot because this guy had an incredible arm. He was always winning contests. And he was fast, too.

I don't know why he thought I was worth speaking for. Maybe he saw something in me that I didn't. I'd really be surprised to hear that anyone wouldn't like to have a friend like that, or to be rescued like that, to be stood up for in his weakness. It's not that anyone likes being a wimp, but none of us is good at everything all the time. Whether age or gender or talent or interest makes us fall short in some area, we all appreciate being rescued. But as a man, I do feel a deep desire to fight, maybe against an injustice. And I'm always itching for an adventure, even if it involves getting muddy, sweaty, or potentially injured. And I do feel a deep desire to rescue the beauties in my life.

But back to the girls. With no script, with no one suggesting it, they scanned the isles at the video store for anything Barbie, they watched all the movies—over and over and over—they got the soundtrack and sang the songs—over and over and over—and then they couldn't contain themselves any longer. Watch me dance. Do you delight in me? Am I lovely? We didn't miss our chance to say with our eyes, our ears, our applause, and our hearts a resounding yes! Yes, you're worth it.

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