A Girl Scout’s love

These little notes have been showing up a lot around the house lately, courtesy of my seven-year-old Girl Scout.

I found one waiting for me in the mailbox the other day. Turns out there was no need to perform that small part of my coming-home ritual. My Girl Scout had gathered the bills and junk mail for me. Yesterday when I went into the office to sort the mess of papers on my desk, I instead found four neatly stacked piles with one sign in the middle—A Girl Scout was here! And this evening I found another beside my washed and dried coffee cup that had been placed (handle facing toward me, no less) by the espresso machine.

I like having a Girl Scout in the house.

And I like these notes.

They arrive with no fanfare or cries for attention. Both the good deed and the placing of the message are accomplished with the utmost secrecy. My daughter is moving beyond the stated goals of the Girl Scout oath, of doing her duty for God and country. She is more than a mere soldier of good. She is now becoming a secret agent of virtue, planting tiny bombs disguised as slivers of paper that explode in showers of blessing.

These notes may be intended as one more step along the road to another badge for her, but they’ve become much more to her father. They’ve helped me see the little things that are done for me that I often miss. If there were no note for me in the mailbox, I would have likely dismissed the act and said nothing. The same goes for the sorted papers on my desk and my clean coffee cup. I would have been thankful, yes. But maybe not thankful enough to take the time to pause and express my appreciation.

But these signs have allowed me the opportunity to do just that. To pause and ponder an act that was maybe small in nature but certainly big in love. And it gave me cause to seek out my little do-gooder and thank her with a peck on the cheek and a hug for her trouble.

I interrupted the class of teddy bears and Beanie Babies she was teaching in her bedroom. By the numbers scrawled on the small chalkboard by her bed, the lesson for the day was addition.

“You’re not supposed to thank me, Daddy,” she sighed, then quieted a particularly troublesome stuffed zebra in the corner with a threat to send him to the principal’s office.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point?” I asked.

She looked at me with an understanding stare and said, “Just to help, Daddy. I’m a Girl Scout. We don’t just clean up our own messes, we help other folks clean up theirs, too.”

Oh. I see.

“So you’re helping me clean up my messes, then?” I asked.

“Yes. Because I’m loving you.”

I nodded and said, “I love you too, sweetie.”

I left my daughter to her classroom and walked back into the kitchen. The words “That’s not what I said, Daddy” bounced off the walls of the hallway and into my ears. Like a lot of what my kids say, that little bit of wisdom was listened to but not heard. Not until I sat down and thought about it, anyway.

That’s not what I said, Daddy.

That’s what she had called out to me as I was walking away. Not that she loved me, but that she was loving me. Those were two entirely different definitions of a single sentiment. My daughter had taken the noun and added a suffix, an –ing that had transformed it from a mere object to something both present and active.

I understood then. Understood what those notes were really for and what they truly meant. She was performing more than simple kindness, she was defining love. Not as the world usually knew it, but as it should be.

Not a thing, but an act.

Present and active.

Picture and post by Billy Coffey of billycoffey.com.

Tagged as: family, Girl Scouts, giving, Love, parenting