“I am convinced there’s no greater call today. This is our top priority, to become walls for our daughters: His daughters.”
~ Jeff Voth, Defending the Feminine Heart
Recently, I was in the paint store buying supplies to paint our bedroom and to fulfill a promise I made to Shanna. The store was fairly quiet with a woman clerk helping another female customer, I was talking to a buddy I hadn’t seen in a while, and another clerk was in the back helping a customer.
Suddenly the calm was interrupted when I nine-year-old boy kicked open the front door, screamed, “Bitches!” and ran off. At first, I was shocked silent. The women were horrified. All of us were petrified.
Then it happened. Something fierce escalated with-in me. A fire began to burn. My adrenaline kicked in. My body temperature rose. I looked at my buddy and took off running. I must have been an ominous sight to this young truant as he was clearly caught off guard when I reached out to grab him.
He dodged me. He was lucky. But something in my eyes told him he was getting ready to battle with a giant he couldn’t defeat and he turned back towards the store with me uncomfortably close by.
Clearly angry I said, “You can say what you want to men and we will deal with it like men, but you DO NOT talk to women that way. Do you understand me (I didn’t wait for his answer)? Get in there and apologize!”
He did it without question, twice.
He walked up the counter and gruffly apologized for using a derogatory word to the now smiling women, I escorted him out the door, offered a few words of parting wisdom, and he scurried back to his former misgivings
The experience got me thinking. What kind of home life would allow this young boy to wander the streets during school hours? Where is "dad" in this story? How often have I sat idly by as my sons disrespected their mom? Or worse, how often have I said hurtful words to the woman I’m committed to love and defend more than any other person on planet earth?
I’m called to cherish Shanna but have failed so many times in my past. I regret that. But that young paint store boy got me thinking that day about defending the feminine heart.
