This morning, the little one plows into our bed and announces that she is about to lose her first loose tooth.
The world stops for a minute. A first lost tooth!
In our family, we let Dad do the tooth pulling. There's even a title assigned to this role. He pinches his thumb and forefinger together and calls his hand the "Extractor." The girls giggle and squeal as the Extractor approaches the loose tooth.
Meanwhile, my daughter's mouth contains exceptionally tiny teeth, and the Extractor can hardly get a hold of that one small front tooth.
I'm watching this dad--so large by comparison--bending low and peering inside that small mouth. He examines with great care that little tooth and suggests we try to pull it this evening since it's not quite ready. It seems so strange, so wonderful, as I observe this interaction.
Is there anything too small for this dad to care about--to know so well? Is there anything about his daughter that he wouldn't stop everything for, bend low, and examine and tend to?
God whispers in my heart: "See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" I imagine myself as that daughter. Do I realize God knows everything about me? Can it be true, as the Psalmist says, that our tears are on a scroll--part of God's record? Can it be true that, as Jesus himself proclaims "even the very hairs of [our] head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid. . . "?
A father knows--and cares deeply about--even a loose tooth. What can happen to me today that falls outside the knowledge and loving attention of the Father?
Living with flair means I realize that even tiny details about me are known, cared about, and tended to by God.
Journal: What small event (that I'm tempted to think nobody cares about) might I entrust to God today?