It was Sabbath morning, and my 13 year old daughter stood staring glumly into the bathroom mirror.
“Good morning, Sweetheart!” I said, brightly.
Silence.
I began to look deeper into her gaze.
“Hey, Bug, what’s up?”
“I’m steeling myself for the attack of the church ladies.” She responded.
Immediately I knew what she meant. My beautiful, teenaged daughter inherited her father’s propensity for height and already stood two full inches taller than me at 5 feet 7 inches. Since this was our first Sabbath back to church since the beginning of the pandemic, a whole year ago, she was bracing for the barrage of comments from well-meaning church members about how tall she had become and how grown up she looked.
Being a pastor’s kid, this was nothing new for her. Except, I realized, that this is a new phase of life for her. The last time we went to church, my daughter was a kid. Now, she is a young lady. An adult-in-training. A girl, not yet confident in who she is in the throes of becoming.
I asked her to tell me more, so she began telling me how she didn’t like to be the center of conversation, and that she didn’t know how to respond when people commented on her appearance.
Silently, I asked God for wisdom, and instantly an idea popped into my mind.
Diplomacy. I needed to teach my daughter how to respectfully acknowledge the people speaking to her, and artfully change the subject.
This is something I have often practiced myself, as an introverted pastor’s wife who is also uncomfortable with being the center of conversation. But I had taken these skills for granted. My daughter needed these skills, and I could teach her.
In solidarity, I told her about one time when a church lady had calculated my conception date in the church foyer one Sabbath morning, while I was pregnant. Talk about uncomfortable and embarrassing!
“We can’t control what people say, but we CAN graciously steer the conversation in other directions.” I assured. “It’s called diplomacy. Wanna learn how?”
She nodded, happily, with new hope in her eyes, and we bravely made our way to church together for our first lesson.
By Jaclyn Rochelle Russell