to my daughter
November 22, 2016 § 10 Comments
It’s been six days since we picked up your back brace. In that time there have been no complaints, zero drama. You’ve been stubbornly independent and quietly determined as you muscle through the awkwardness of limited mobility and disrupted sleep.
Your doctor, orthotist, and nurses encouraged you to take your time, to settle into new routines, but each day you’ve challenged yesterday’s goals with your own ideas.
It was your idea to try sleeping through the night that first day; your idea to invite friends over to share your news quietly; your idea to wear it to school without a plan.
When teachers and staff offered to educate peers, you postponed the extra attention and planned for an upcoming health unit; a time when your experiences might complement the curriculum rather than interrupt routine.
You aren’t one to call attention to yourself, make excuses or seek special treatment. Humor and humility have armored you with a resilience that fortifies the tenderness of your self-awareness with grit.
A time will come when you don’t remember the sore muscles or cumbersome brace, so I’m stealing a moment today to remember your grace that you might one day know how very proud Dad and I are of your unassuming nature and uncommon courage.
At an age when so many worry about how they look, there is no vanity to your pride; no boastfulness in your effort.
Only the beautiful way you walk tall.
Love, Mom
post script
May 10, 2016 § 2 Comments
It’s over. Your solo is done. I’m still holding tightly to the memory of your performance and the exuberant message you sent me just moments after your evaluation.
I did AWESOME! I made a couple of mistakes, but otherwise I was amazing!
This day was not easy, nor was your performance perfect. There were hours of dreaded anticipation and moments of panicked uncertainty. I may have wished you an easy performance, but your mistakes were glorious for your stubborn resilience and tender courage.
You walked in to your test withdrawn, hunched over your fear like it was holding your place when your accompanist directed you to lead. Swinging your body toward the sound of his kindness, you tapped your beloved boots to tempo as you raised your instrument to a smile.
Audacious and fiercely genuine, it was a glimpse of the girl I know at her most comfortable in her least comfortable setting. Then I heard the sharp squeak of a single note scrapping out of place.
It seemed traitorous that this lost artifact of early practices would betray you just as you had relaxed your guard. I wanted to push myself through the monitor and tell the man observing you that only yesterday you were home sick, unable to breathe and exhausted; to will you a second chance at a truer performance of ability.
You, however, didn’t falter.
One deep breath as your eyes kept place and you were back. No tears or apology, no excuses or awkward explanations. It was better than if you had played without error.
I did AWESOME! I made a couple of mistakes, but otherwise I was amazing!
And so you did, you were, you are.
Love, Mom
to my daughter
April 18, 2016 § 2 Comments
Yesterday afternoon we stole away for a moment of girl time among new acquaintances and old friends. It was your second birthday party since our move and the first one that pushed you outside your comfort zone.
I’m convinced the world can be divided into those who can roller skate and us.
I considered demanding you skate, there was even a fleeting moment of guilt induced pressure for me to lace up and drag us both through a painful display of determined whimsy. In the end, I decided to leave my socks at home and allowed you to bring along a quiet activity to fill the time between the others’ laps.
I told you in the car that it can be brave to go against the grain, to recognize your fear and stand safely where you can breathe. There are going to be times in your life when that reservation will keep you safe and give you the clarity to work through the risks and consequences of your choices. I secretly hoped you might change your mind, but allowed you space enough to choose.
It was only after pizza, when the party was winding down, that I spotted you trading your tennis shoes for skates. It may have been the longest, slowest test of will, there was no natural ability or mastery in your effort, but there was an exquisite vulnerability in stepping outside your comfort zone and wearing your fear in a demonstration of stubborn optimism.
Just as it is brave to stand in a solitary self truth, there is strength of character in reaching past your fears and holding tightly to another. We don’t have to be brave alone any more than we have to be perfect. Friendship gives us a safe place to fail colorfully.
Love, Mom
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