I have been mourning what could have been for me. I see her, strong and confident. She is happy and free, and knows no self condemnation. I wonder at what age it went wrong for me and how I stop it for her. She has a lot of good men in her life that love her, approve of her - that will help. She approaches others with an expectant spirit, an inquisitive mind. There is no hesitation that they may not approve or reciprocate. When shy, it is usually because she doesn't want the abundance of attention she is getting.
Could we recapture that young spirit of wonder? How could we erase the scars that hold us back, mar our image of ourselves? What if we interacted with others under the premise that we could do something for each other, entertain each other? Could we see ourselves, small, near helpless, and love that fragile heart?
This is new for me. I've just had three rough and tumble boys, but now this girl. This woman to be. This shorter, more beautiful version of myself. So this is how I used to be? She makes me wonder about myself. I feel so old, and covered with rough edges. What do I do? How do I polish this aging self, soften the callouses that have formed over tender hurts? Can I relearn what it is to be me? What He wants me to be?
I wonder and marvel at her. Those toes I have to kiss, up to the eyes like mine and brown swirls of hair. The way she grabs my arm and says, "Mom!", so I must give her my attention.She is good medicine, while at the same time she opens wounds, so like her, I must give them my attention.
0 comments:
Post a Comment