She Is Amazing

My daughter's bedroom is like a personality capsule, a glimpse into what is truly important to her 10, almost 11, year old heart.

Pictures of our family...a wedding photo of just her father and myself...a picture of her cousins, her sister and brother.  A toy horse her little sister bought her for Christmas holds a cherished spot on her window sill and an old merry-go-round toy of mine, handmade by a cousin, now gone quietly gathers dust in the corner.  

A few years ago her godmother, my sister, gave her an old painting palette of hers, still covered in smears of paint.  A piece of art in its own right, it now hangs, somewhat precariously, next to the pencil drawing created just for her by that same aunt.  A place of honor on her lavender wall. 

Which will be green by the end of the summer if she has anything to say about it, by the way.

Her books, an odd mixture of Nail Art, Anne of Green Gables, and her dad's old Zoo Books, are stacked messily on the bookshelf-clearly not the most important part of the room, but obviously used frequently.  

Half finished art projects hang from the walls, ceiling, closet, and drawers.  Every ribbon she has ever received in her short life hangs, tacked carefully to the wall-a small, but growing collection that mimics her beloved older brother's collection on his wall.  Each of them lined up creates a satiny rainbow curtain, save one wrinkled red 2nd place Art Ribbon, tucked carefully away in my dresser drawer.  The spoils of Elementary School.

She is a girl in flux.  On the edge.  On the verge.  So young, yet so very ready for the world.  So small, yet mighty in her determination and will.  Her ability to gauge a situation and her discernment of one's character is remarkable. She can spot a fraud a mile away.  Her deadpan expression is the envy of her dad's poker buddies.

Her view of the world is so completely off the page I sometimes wonder if we're even in the same book. But I can't tell you how many times she's caused me to pause and consider things a little bit differently.  A little more like her.

I can't help but smile when I watch the way her petite frame whirls with nearly panicked energy while she's tumbling.

I admire the calm way she walks into unfamiliar or stressful situations.  Never showing the fear in her heart, though I know it's there.  

I saw her mask slip momentarily as went down during a stage performance, but up she popped. Ruffled feathers?  Not this one.

She is amazing.  

Yet I worry for her.  I know I shouldn't, she will more than likely be just fine. But as her mother I reserve some of that right.  I worry, which usually leads to me pleading with God. Pleading to guide her, to never leave her...though I know He won't.

I worry that the big world would break down that indomitable spirit of hers, that whirling joyful frenzy in her soul. That she would listen to what others tell her makes her valuable and forget that the things that make her inherently her are what give her value.  The mere fact that she is a creation of God....gives her value. That the world's assessment of her holds almost zero value.

I worry that those tears she cries when she feels people only see her as the girl who struggles with basic math and can't always remember how to spell seemingly easy words, may someday end up washing away the light and life inside of her.  

I pray that the frustration when "friends" shut her down because they don't see her as academically equal, only makes her more determined and stronger.  

I worry that she would feel overshadowed by an older brother who appears to be successful at every turn. Sometimes, when all you're looking at is the accolades, it's hard to see the hard work and challenges that come along with such things.    

I worry for her because while she was still so small, along came a younger sister who's very birth changed the course of our entire family. My greatest fear for her has always been that she would feel as though she's the forgotten one.  The one sandwiched between two bright lights, in their own way. Even though she might be the one who doesn't just glow....she shines.

I worry that someday her daddy's stories of feeling exactly the same way won't resonate and calm the storm inside.  

I worry.

But the pendulum always swings the other way.  And I remember the baby, the toddler, this girl...she is a force of nature.  A hurricane of life and joy.  A sheer gale of laughter and fun. With a mind that doesn't like to conform to a nice little box.  But would rather rip the box apart and remake it with bright colors, some superhero references, a long explanation about why it is now better, and a bit of glitter thrown in to make it shine.

She will never let us forget her or overlook her. God gave her an extra measure of determination so that nobody, ever, overlooks her.

She reminds me so much of my mother.

She is amazing.