She accomplished something I haven't seen many accomplish:
She changed because she wanted to.
It wasn't easy, either.
You see, it's one thing to see yourself as you are, desire to change something about yourself, and then wholly another to do something about it. People can spend a lifetime wishing away fault and time and end up exactly how they began.
Which might be j u s t f i n e, if it weren't for the wishin'-they-were-different thing.
I know exactly when it happened, too, this change. I saw it. I was on the sideline, privileged spectator to her sport–her life–and though imperceptible to another living soul, I saw it. Could she even see it?
Isn't this one of God's gifts to mothers, to see that to which others are blinded–the precious, the extraordinary in our children? This…this…is when I feel kinship with Mary–treasuring the invisible and pondering it in my heart.
Years later, she would confirm: indeed, I had witnessed the genesis of her change.
Why did that feel like a small victory?
I suppose because this shift was so palpable to me, it was maddening when others couldn't see it. How could they not? They continued to see her as who she had been, not who she was becoming.
"They" were high schoolers–of course they couldn't see! They didn't want to see. And that's not blaming them, either, it's remembering: who they are and that time of life when boxes are constructed and people are expected to live within carefully drawn lines.
Holy fire began a refining work inside her, though, and that box and those lines didn't fit anymore. She couldn't not change.
I watched this quiet, reserved chile grow up and out and different. Harbored in cocoon, she decided to crazy/love Jesus…and it showed. Her change was a work of His.
She smiled more.
* * * * * *
The other day she accompanied me to her brother's first high school cross country meet. It was a large field of runners and I didn't see any of my friends and hadn't met most of the runners' parents. I was content to be alone in a sea of people; in fact, I preferred the company of my daughter as opposed to making small talk with strangers.
I forgot she had changed.
Another mother walked up to us, uninvited. Her conversation was stilted and awkward and negative, and I didn't want to work that hard (later someone would actually say to me "that lady you were talking to is crazy…"). I wasn't rude, just uncharacteristically short.
If my daughter noticed my behavior, she didn't acknowledge it. Instead I watched her engage this woman like she was the most important person in the world. She was attentive, concerned and inquisitive. And kind.
Her kindness shamed me.
And reminded me of what it feels like to be dismissed.
* * * * * * *
On the drive home I told her how proud I was of her; how impressed I was with how she handled this woman; how lazy and selfish and dismissive I was (at least in my heart), but how much I appreciated and noticed her kindness and grace to someone who was socially awkward.
She tells me things I already know but don't always want to remember–
People just want you to listen.
People just want to be heard and to know that you care.
She says you have to learn how to talk to people, and it doesn't happen without great intention.
And she reminds me of something so easily forgotten now: who she used to be–
"I learned because I've been dismissed…and I remember what that feels like…."
My heart aches then swells.
Her inner beauty brings tears to my eyes.
I long for bigger words than "thank you" to express my gratitude to God for allowing me the privilege of being her mother. Is it morbid to say I'm also grateful He gave me the years to see this stage in life? One denied to my own mother?
She is a hero who will change the world because she dares to crazy/love.
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Today is her 19th birthday.
Day after tomorrow she leaves for college.
Beautiful. Holding you and your lovely, sweet daughter close in my heart this week, Robin. Keep writing – (I know you will) I want to hear all about this upcoming year from you.
I love this. YES, a mother’s eyes to see it ALL.
I’m thinking of you–BIG change, BIG milestone. Peace to you.
Megan,
Thanks for your ALWAYS encouragement! Once she's in school (and now that the boys are back in, too), I really hope I can schedule more consistent writing. I can't wait to see how this year unravels, too!! 🙂
Robin,
First of all, because of your tweet I just read on Twitter, I put a helmet on. You ability to live and see life within today is truly a gift. As much as we hate to see our children leave their childhood, watching them emerge from their cocoon into adulthood is another one of God’s gifts to parents. My baby turned 22 two weeks ago. The young woman she has become since she left her teenage years has been a beautiful experience.
So, grab yourself a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy the her next few years of college. I have no doubt she will continue to amaze you.
Blake
You are killing me with these posts. Thanks so much for sharing this journey with us.
Heather, thank you! I love that you "get" what I'm talkin' about. (I'm as up and down as a bouncing ball :).)
This is simply beautiful, Robin. Thank you for sharing such powerful thoughts so eloquently.
Blake,
I love that you commented to this 'cause I know you're just a few years ahead of me and know this of which I speak. I realize I must sound like a basket case a lot of the time, but I'm really not. But when "it" hits me? Oh, my….like a bullet shootin' through.
And then it's over.
Nicole,
Just tell me I'm killing you softly, k? 🙂
Liddy!!! Thank you for your kind words. I know YOU know what I'm feelin' these days…. 🙂
Robin,
Basket case? No, you’re just the
Robin that we all love to experience vicariously through your eyes.
The wounds heal darlin’!
Blake
Love your writings Robin, made me smile.Wishing you and your daughter the very best on her life journeys.
Maybe God is working through her and she did those changes herself – BUT I think her actions show a great upbringing too. And the upbringing was YOUR doing. Congrats mom – you’ve raised a wonderful child, ready for the world.
She is amazing because HE is amzing and you and Tad have done an amazing job with all your kids. Just wish we got to be more a part of that! Dang Anderson paper people!
I loved reading this and feeling how proud you are of your girl. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for this, Robin. It reminds me to pray so much harder for my “tough” one. The one who really needs to know kindness and who really needs to smile more.
Your daughter is lucky to have you.
So beautiful! I cried!
Ugh…I can relate. The marveling at who she’s become, at the stuff in her that didn’t come from you. The pride. The sadness that she’s growing up too fast. The whole thing. She sounds lovely. Hugs to you as you say a temporary goodbye.
You brought tears to my eyes. Your girl sounds so much like mine. I’m humbled nearly every day by her crazylove for Jesus. Like someone up there said, get ready for a great ride because these next 4 years are going to be quite a show. (My girl starts her senior year in college in a couple of weeks and her level of maturity is shocking for an almost 21 yo. It’s both a source of pride and sorrow… Pride in who she is becoming and sorrow for the little girl she once was.)
I love this, Robin. You Dance girls…amazing. Praying God fills in my wide parenting gaps and gives my own daughter the character and integrity of your Rachel! Praying for you through these next few days…
hard to believe she is that old. We’ve been blogging since she was 14.
As much as we hate to see our children leave their childhood, watching them emerge from their cocoon into adulthood is another one of God’s gifts to parents. My baby turned 22 two weeks ago. The young woman she has become since she left her teenage years has been a beautiful experience.