The Girl Who Makes
Hearts Clap
Whose adorning let it
not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair,
and of wearing of
gold, or of putting on of apparel;
but let it be the
hidden man of the heart,
in that which is not
corruptible,
even the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit,
which is in the sight
of God
of great price.
— 1 Peter 3:3,4
I love to go places with our
daughter Neely. She's so pretty that, as we walk along, male heads turn and
necks crane as if roped by an invisible lasso. Last year at a baseball game, a
guy staring at her literally bonked his head into a street sign. He didn't get
hurt. We all got tickled.
Neely has done a lot for blonde PR,
too: this week, she'll graduate with high distinction from the University of
Nebraska-Lincoln, elected to Phi Beta Kappa. She doesn't tuck a slide rule
behind her ear; she doesn't have algorithms on her iPod. She's just real smart.
But again, she doesn't broadcast it. She's quiet and humble. That tickles us,
too.
Of course I'm bragging. Can I help
it if I get a kick out of a good Christian girl being so beautiful and smart?
Advertising, folks. It's a great witness.
But the thing I'm proudest of is a
quality that doesn't show. It's something you don't get awards for, or big
salaries, or headlines. It's something the world often overlooks, ignores, devalues,
runs over, or simply doesn't see. Something priceless.
It's her meek and quiet spirit.
She doesn't toot her own horn: she
doesn't even have a horn. She doesn't feel a need to fill every molecule of
every moment with speech and noise. Oh, she's very witty and lots of fun. She
talks. Sure! But not a whole lot. She's not loud and boisterous - never draws
attention to herself.
And oh, my God, does our world need
more Neelys. Do we ever need more of the gentle ones . . . the peaceful ones .
. . the pleasant ones . . . the calm ones.
We've all seen the other kind of
person get ahead. You know: the squeaky wheels getting the grease. It's the
loud, bubbly, pushy, feisty and often selfish, shallow ones who seem to make
the biggest splash, and appear positioned to get the furthest ahead.
But in the long run, the quiet, deep
and soft-spoken ones tend to lead lives that are the most productive, and do
the most good.
There are the clanky cowbells and squawking
guinea hens of this world . . . and then there are the flutes and doves.
There are the rumbling motorboats
and thundering racecars . . . and then there are the quiet sailboats and
snowskis.
Hey! The world needs all kinds. I
know that. I'm just saying that people like Neely - the listeners, the
thinkers, the deep ones, the caring ones - are precious. And we all need to try
to be more like them.
The quality of reserve in her
character is what makes me think she's so Godly. Hers is not the brassy, sassy,
hey-look-at-me kind of beauty. Hers is a quiet beauty, like a flower opening.
Think about it: how much of God's creation
is silent, most of the time, or very, very quiet? There's a reason for that. When
you quiet down, you can hear Him speak. Maybe the reason some people are loud
is that they don't want to. Maybe the quiet ones are just listening.
Neely's sorority organized a Senior
Week last week. It culminated in a special fireside, where they read "love
letters" to each senior written secretly in advance by their parents. I really
wanted ours to be good. So I turned to the best communicator in the family:
Maddy, age 7.
"How do you feel about Neely?"
Her whole face lit up, and she
immediately replied:
"She makes my heart clap."
That's it!
You can't hear it . . .
. . . but you can sure feel it.
As Neely sets sail on the rest of
her life, our hearts will be giving her a silent, standing ovation. In the ears
of God, it'll be loud and clear. †
