Today in church, during the most reflective part, a little girl in a soft pink Easter dress spilled her grape communion juice. It trickled down her dress and pooled on the floor beneath her sandals. I was sitting two rows behind her.
Quickly, her grandpa and grandma (who happened to be the pastor and his wife!) found a cloth and began to wipe her dress and the floor. Her father joined in, trying to minimize the damage. And then, her mother--hawk-like and decisive--turned from her seat at the end of the aisle and made her way to where her daughter sat.
I felt myself bristle. Would this mother scold? Would she grab her daughter and drag her out of the church, shaming her for distracting the other worshipers? Was the Easter dress expensive, and would the little girl be punished for staining it?
The mother leaned down to her daughter. I couldn't see the daughter's face, but she had her head down, shaking.
The mother took the child's face in her hands, firmly, tilting the chin up.
Then, looking clearly into that little girl's eyes, she kissed her cheek and smiled.
Something about the way that mother held the girl's face, something about tilting a chin up, something about that soft kiss overwhelmed me. It was a picture of God's grace: choosing to love and not shame, lifting a face, covering a stain with a kiss. It was Easter flair.
Maybe I was so struck because I studied the emotion of shame in graduate school. When we feel tormenting inferiority because of a shortcoming, the body's response is to look down. We hide. We cannot endure the gaze of an audience.
But this mother tilted the child's face up. By refusing to allow the shame response, this mother locked eyes with her daughter and gazed with love and unconditional acceptance.
Later, I saw that little girl laughing and running around at an Easter egg hunt. The bright stain on her dress made no difference to her. But it could have.
Living with flair means I take a face in my hands (even if it's my own), tilt up the chin, and choose to love regardless of the deep stain. Who isn't walking around with grape juice on their clothes? Who isn't that child? Who doesn't need a love like that?