Being wondrously gifted with a concert ticket recently, I found myself in a huge arena with a prime view of the artists' offstage seating. I am not ashamed to admit that this resulted in me watching more of what was happening in the dim off the stage than in the spotlights on the stage. Many beautiful moments blossom when no one is looking.

I'm glad I was looking.

One of the guys I know had his lovely wife and two darling little girls with him. It was a happy time for them; the travel schedule makes their days together that much more important, and 3-year-old Emma was all daddy's girl. There were many familiar people around, a few other children, and mommy and grandma were only a few seats away at any given time.

But daddy was the only person who seemed to matter to Emma.

The only place she wanted to be was in his lap, with his strong arms around her, leaning her head against his chest, or standing cheek to cheek as he sang along in her ear. She was blissfully happy. Contented just to be with him and take in the view from his perspective.

On the occasion that she ventured off to sit with someone else or dance to the music, she was always back in no time, clambering over him in gleeful little smiles. The sweet innocence of her affection and trust was only matched by the quiet sense of protection and tenderness exuded by her daddy, who splashed her with gentle cuddles and the occasional soft kiss in her blond hair. 

They were so distractedly preoccupied with each other, and yet, present in the happenings. The glow of love between them melted my heart into a pool of sweet nothingness before the second song breached the opening bars. I could hear those singers another time. Witnessing love in action is worth missing any lyric that attempts describing it.

There was something so fresh and precious about this daddy and his little girl. If I could have, I would've scooped them up and saved time in a bottle, just so I couldn't forget. I hope I don't forget. 

I wonder…am I like her?

Do I love my heavenly daddy the way little Emma loves her earthly daddy? With that kind of childish abandon and delight, those traits that become so elusive as the timeline of life slips by, and we put away "childish things".

As she displayed so naturally, does my attention revolve around desiring His presence, holding His hand, and hearing His voice whispering in my ear? Or am I distracted, running off to play with my friends, and looking to fill my need for love and protection in other places?

Her daddy had kept a watchful eye over his sweet treasure wrapped in a white sweater and blue jeans. My heavenly daddy, who knows the very hairs of my head, is keeping watch over me with eyes of love and care as one of His redeemed. One of His children. One of His treasures.

I don't feel like a treasure. I'm the one who got the gift, after all.

But I think it makes my heavenly daddy the happiest when I am close. When I come running to meet Him. When I clamber over Him in childish glee. When I jabber all kinds of nonsense in His ear, or when I just sit and listen to His gentle voice speaking peace to my soul.

To be blissfully happy and contented to view the world from His perspective…To be so preoccupied with Him that everything else is just second thought. Why can't I always be that way?

Sometimes I think we are afraid to love God so freely, so deeply, so lavishly, so obviously. That to look at Him and smile because you see Him smiling back somehow cheapens His glory or His holiness with irreverence.

No, we were not meant to stand afar from God. Being closer only makes the awe grow greater.

If I could just love Him a little more like Emma loves her daddy.

Freely, deeply, lavishly. Obviously.

I'll try. Because He needs to know…the world needs to know…I'm Daddy's girl.