Last night I had the opportunity to be exceptionally proud of my children again.

Our 10th annual Christmas Carol service was held last night, and we, the Grace Lutheran Church choir, did two pieces. The first was "Hope for Resolution." I've written about this piece of music before, but last night was the first chance to perform it for a large audience. My daughter Leah was one of eight or ten children who sang as the children's choir for that song. She, being one of the oldest, was a strong, beautiful voice -- holding long notes and helping the group stay in tune. She looked beautiful, and sounded even better.

Our second piece was an a cappella version of "Mary Had a Baby" with a soprano solo at the beginning. My daughter Sarah sang the solo, and was just plain outstanding. There she was, at all of her 5-feet-2-inches, in her Extra-Small polo shirt which is still too big for her, filling the huge sanctuary with her even bigger voice. Shivers. It gave people shivers. Wow.

Afterwards, I don't think I could have stopped smiling if you paid me.

Parenting has provided me a valuable lesson. I have been proud of many things which I have done in my life. The kind of pride I feel when I accomplish something is a selfish pride. It's not as if I'm boasting or showing off, but when I accomplish something, it tends to feel like I won something. As if I had been in a competition, and I bested my opponent.

Fatherly pride is quite different. My heart feels like it is swelling with appreciation and love. I am so happy for my child, rather than being happy with myself.

Each of my children has provided me many chances to have this kind of fulfilling pride wash over me. It is a gift, from them, to me - and I don't think they even realize it.

After the concert was over, as I was walking to get our coats, one of the members of our choir stopped me on the stairs. Wilbur is, oh, perhaps 65. He and his family are some of the very nicest people in our congregation. He just had to tell me how much he thought of our family, our children, and how we raised them. This meant a great deal to me, and I started realizing something: I could have reacted with the kind of personal pride I discussed first. But I didn't. Instead, that fatherly pride poured out. "Thanks," I told him. "They are great kids. I'm so proud of them."

And I am.