She stepped up to the plate, raised the bat over her right shoulder, shimmied her feet steady into the red dirt, and waited for the ball. In that moment I thought, My eleven year old has more confidence in her pinky than I’ve ever had. When I was her age, I wouldn’t go near a ball. I was too scared.

Last Christmas I sat on pins and needles as the pianist began to play the intro for the song in which my daughter sang a solo. Standing on ready in the red shirt I’d bought her, she stepped forward to the microphone, face a little flushed from nerves, and opened her mouth to sing with the voice of an angel. At that moment I thought, She’s got more confidence than I had at that age. At ten years old, I wouldn’t sing a solo in front of 50 people, much less a packed sanctuary of 1500-plus.

I guess she gets her confidence genes from her dad. He was Mr. Sports growing up, and to this day, is quite confident of his abilities and talents. I admire my daughter, and I often draw strength from my husband. But when it comes to self-confidence, I have little.

It’s the reason why:

• I write raw, honest blog posts and never click Publish
• My knees quiver when I sing a solo
• When another adult criticizes my children, I question my parenting skills for days
• I dig deep for weeks when my beliefs are challenged
• You’ll rarely get an invitation into my cluttered, lived-in house
• I stand on the scales and shake my head in disgust every morning
• I let friendships slip away instead of pursuing them

Really, self-confidence is an ugly thing. It’s focusing on self…me.

In the moments I turn my eyes on Jesus and place my confidence in Him, my world flips upside down. Suddenly, I’m focused on what He wants to accomplish through me, on what He created me to be and do, on His plans.

Maybe it’s not so much a gene-thing. Maybe it’s just that my girl understands her purpose for being better than I understand mine. She’s aware of the talents and gifts God has given her, and she puts them in action.

Shouldn’t we all be so bold?