She was so frustrated. Each year she nears adulthood finds a deeper turmoil and I remember this. I remember the frustration of wanting the keys so I could unlock all the mysteries. I remember wanting them right now. I remember struggling to understand with my still young mind why, when my body was able, would they not just give me the entire set of keys and let me in.
She did not want to obey. I kept following her through the house requiring obedience in even the smallest tasks. Her will stood firm against mine and in the battle I lost my temper and it sent hers flaring and in the midst I sent up prayers,
“Lord, please help me.”
Like ice water poured on molten lava, my anger is stilled and God grants me the understanding, the words.
We stand in the kitchen, me with a wooden spoon dripping tomato sauce, her by the sink, fists clenched at her side, red faced and tears puddled in her eyes.
We begin to discuss the rocky road to womanhood. I explain that I understand, I know the frustration to be so close but so far away. She clenches her fists again and demands that I respect her, demands trust and is not pleased when I remind her,
“You must earn it.”
She looks burning through her eyes such anger and tells me she cannot because of my sin.
My heart is pierced, it is something I know. I knew it the moment she was placed in my arms. I can never be all she needs to make it through this life. And my mind sends out S.O.S. to the heavens because I know the truth of my sin. Then God says give her a key. And I am given knowledge to help her hurdle my sin.
I explain she cannot justify her sin because of mine.
Eyes begin to widen.
“Mom is a sinner. Do you ever pray for me?”
Eyes are the size of saucers.
“Mom, I never thought to pray for your struggles.”
The reality, my mom is real, my mom struggles and fights to get it right. In that moment we step onto common ground. There is a mutual earned respect. She offers up a twisted grin and I share experiences on my path to womanhood and the girl’s heart begins to open.
“Darling, I know how hard it is to be 12. I was there once and I wanted to be an adult. I even had this exact conversation with Gamaw. So many days I wanted to laugh and then cry and then I just wanted to eat chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” The twisted grin turns into a goofy smile and I can see in her eyes an understanding. My Mom’s been here, she knows.
I wrap my arms around her and she lets me hold her and I feel honored that I get to call her mine. I am grateful that God made her and is willing to share his insight of her so that I can better love her.
Many Hands make light the Pancake Abundance Clean up
A comment that’s a testimony to our desired work ethic, “You guys don’t do anything half way.”
A joyful day alongside my cleaning protege tackling the mess of her bedroom and finally finishing and laying in the middle of the immaculate, completed project together soaking in the beauty of order and tidiness
Adult friends who enjoy the company of our children
Sticky Fingers Scones and particularly holiday mixes! (I really like breakfast foods!)
Airport Arrival Parties
Washing the Morning after dishes with my own thoughts about the night’s festivities of great fellowship, great company and being moved to prayer thanking God for all of it.
Restaurant Balloon Artists with their amazing creations and fun attitudes. When the 10 year old is asked what she wants she says, “Don’t worry I can make my own.” He was so intrigued that he pumped up a balloon, asked her to make an animal for him and then he proudly wore it through the restaurant proclaiming her talent. She beamed.