Family

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Trashman
By Glenn A. Hascall


There is a designated trash can in our home - and I am it. If my children ask mom for gum, they deposit their wrapper in my shirt pocket. If they get a drink that requires a straw, they pass the wrapper to me for disposal. Sometimes they simply say, "Here Daddy," and drop a lump of chewed gum in the palm of my hand.

From time to time I find myself resenting the idea that I seem to be viewed as the family dumpster on our various outings. My eight year-old daughter said something the other day that changed that idea for me.

Here's how it happened.

Alyssa has been growing her hair out since she was a very small girl. She has some natural curl to it and my wife, Nancy often French braids her locks or puts them in pony tails. One day when mom was running errands, Alyssa asked me (not for the first time) if she could get a new hair style; one that was shorter. I had heard her make this request from time to time and knew that her mom wasn't exactly sold on the idea, but in the interest of helping my growing daughter exercise some moderated independence, I took her to the salon and we talked over styles and length (most of which was simply for Alyssa's benefit). Then we decided that we would be risky and take off two inches in the length of her hair, which was not really very noticeable to most.

The beautician cut off a little over an inch, playing along with my theatrics. Then I claimed in my daughter's hearing that the amount that was taken from her hair was not nearly enough - we should go shorter. So the beautician chewed her lip in mock concern and began cutting again.

In the eyes of my daughter I had allowed her to gain a new hair style. One that was uniquely of her own choosing. She spent many vain hours looking at herself in the mirror, believing that she had never had such a wonderful hair cut.

The next day, Alyssa wanted to show her grandma the new hairdo. This required that the hair be allowed to lay as straight as possible without braid or ponytail. However, mom had made it clear that if Alyssa wanted to play outside at grandma's house she would have to place her hair in a ponytail (something those who have daughter's with long hair will understand)

Alyssa came to me with great seriousness and asked if I would place her hair band in my pocket to be used for play time later in the day. Then she said something that I will remember for the rest of my life. Her comment had nothing to do with my ability to stash a multitude of childish trash in various pockets - it had everything to do with trust. She said, "Daddy, would you take care of this? I know you'll keep it safe."

I can't really explain the emotion that I felt in that moment, but it was powerful. My daughter came to me with an item of small concern and entrusted it to my care. She knew I would keep it safe. She trusted me completely - and I loved her for it.

It has occurred to me that I am a child that often responds in a different way with my heavenly Father. I am more than willing to pass the accumulated trash of my life to Him to take care of, however, when it comes to the 'big things', well, I want to try to hold on to those things myself for a while.

All the while, God's Word tells us to cast our cares on Him - because He cares for us. We learn that Solomon was never arrayed in splendor as beautiful as the flowers God created; that God counts the hairs on our head; that He will take care of our needs. It comes down to a matter of trust. And my daughter's confident trust in her daddy brings a struggle in the heart of her father. Oh that I would re-learn the childish confidence that allows me to say to my Heavenly Father, with great affection and trust, "Daddy, would you take care of this? I know You'll keep it safe."


Copyright Glenn A. Hascall

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