How to Guard a Heart

Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life. Proverbs 4:23

The thing is, when you're a little girl, you don't know much about the heart. Which isn't to say you don't have feelings: little girls are surely aware enough of those to express them in all sorts of manners...streaming tears, stamping feet, pouting lips, and toothy grins all come to mind. But they don't know much about from whence those emotions come.
They just live.
And wonder.
And later, maybe, worry.

The thing is, when you're a little girl, you don't know much about guarding the heart. Seems to follow if you don't know much about the heart, I'd say. And what's all this talk of "the wellspring of life"? Can an unguarded heart lead to death? What, then, becomes of the befuddled lass who knows little of the heart and even less about guarding it?
She just lives.
And wonders.
And, perhaps, worries.

Well, not if you've got one of these...

       
  to teach you about this...

 

so you never end up like that.

If these are the times that try men's souls (thank you, Mr. Paine), they must be the days of absolute peril for women's hearts. Each generation seems less sure of the ins and outs of love and value and self-worth - probably because the rules of the game seem to change with each turn of daughter-become-mother.

And maybe that's where we get it most wrong. Perhaps mothers can't teach the lesson their own hearts are wearing on torn, mended, and torn again sleeves. Perhaps it be the fathers - who maybe have done some tearing of their own - who see most fully.
Teach most effectively.
Guard most rigorously.

Recently, Grace got dressed up for a date with her father, a Daddy-Daughter Dance to be exact.

 
Amidst great excitement, she painted her nails. And curled her hair. And buckled her first pair of fancy-heeled shoes.

Her earrings were dangly, her lips just a bit glossed.
She felt grand, I think - a child-turned princess escorted to a ball.

But her "date" wasn't a perfect prince: neither was he a warted toad.

You know, the stuff of the real-life heart is rarely so simple as streaks of black or ribbons of white. We are all flawed, broken, mending, and growing...men included.

So, if you're taking lessons about the heart, why not from a teacher who loves you the most? One who's flawed, true, but nonetheless captivated by your authentic beauty.
That particular curve of your jaw.
Or the way you hold your pen.
Or your giggle when he makes you laugh; your frown when he 
     makes you mad.
How he watches you so intently when you tell him your story.
And reminds you to continue when all within you longs to stop.

The thing is, this little girl is learning about her heart from the one  showing her how to guard it...one giggle, frown, glance, and reminder...one dance...at a time.
Incidentally, he's also the same one showing her Him: the Father
    who gave her a heart in the first place.

So she can live.
And wonder.
Without worry.
And hopefully a bit less harm.

For a little girl, the heart is risky business, a perilous journey of rise and fall, win and lose.

But this business of learning and guarding: well, maybe that's not so bad.

Especially if the lessons come by dancing with her Daddy.