This Sweet, Strong Girl
She stands in the center of the rows of students onstage, a mass of kindergartners with pressed shirts and combed hair, and she looks lost and uncomfortable. Her lips move sluggishly, a pace behind her classmates, as they launch into the first recitation. And then her eyes find me, buried deep in the rows of parents, smiling with everything in me, as if by the exuberance of my facial expression, I might reach across the sea of heads and surround her in a glow of comfort and encouragement and a mother's pride.
It works.
As her eyes find mine, the uncertainty evaporates and her face cracks open in that beautiful smile of hers. I can almost hear the power of her voice finally joining strongly in as she focuses on me, her eyes giggling to see her little brother hopping on the seat beside me and waving at her for all he's worth. She doesn't miss a word of the recitation from that point onwards, and her eyes never leave my face. My cheeks hurt from the effort of smiling, and my heart bursts from the love of that sweet child.
Sarah, my precious, one-of-a-kind, sweet, strong girl.
She has grown so much over the past year that I almost can't believe it. It was about this time last spring that her pre-k teacher tried to convince me to hold her back another year - worried that this gentle, cautious child needed more time to develop her confidence and readiness for kindergarten. But, for better or worse, we decided it was best for her to move forward, even if it was a challenge, and what a joy it is to see her blossom - still in her own quiet way - under the care of a precious teacher whom God surely prepared just for her.
As the middle child, Sarah gets short-changed in our attention, but rather than hold it against us, she simply makes sure we know it when she needs a little extra loving - and spends the rest of the time in happy independence, relishing in the world of Make Believe and in her love of drawing. Lately she has discovered the power of being a Big Sister, and I often find Andrew trailing behind her in a princess costume, happily obeying every queenly command from his "Sawah." When they are not princesses, Sarah lets Andrew be her puppy, and he frolics around the house on the end of a leash made of plastic bead necklaces. (It is hopeless to interfere, in case anyone is beginning to question my parenting; trust me, I've tried.)
She has hit the point in the school year when the kindergarteners are expected to start reading to us at home, and I am amazed by her aptitude and excitement, especially considering the guilt I carry about not reading to her as much as to her brother(s). While Luke at this age had to be coaxed into trying anything more complicated than Go, Dog, Go, she insists on reading books that are really too complex for a beginner. The first few times, I convinced her to find an Easy Reader instead, but it didn't take long to see that she was up for the challenge of these harder books, and although we might spend a whole ten minutes on just two pages, it is more than her brother could (or would) do at this point, and I am thrilled to see her fierceness and determination. It is as if, under that timid and careful exterior, there is a child who will never know any limits.
Many of her classmates know her as "the girl with the really long hair," and although she sometimes wails about not having any friends, I see her surrounded by them every time I volunteer to read to her class or help with lunchtime. They flag her down at grocery stores and restaurants, and although she often responds so shyly that it is as if she never met them before, I hope that inside she is feeling that joy of friendship which she has obviously spent time quietly and loyally bestowing on these girls since the first day of school.
Sarah continues to assert her womanhood in our house with her particular opinions on clothing and hairstyles, and often makes approving (or not) remarks concerning my own choice of clothing. I'm never exactly sure how to take these comments: is it really a good thing for a five-year-old (whose favorite outfits continue to involve lots of pink, lots of patterns, and lots of irrational layering) to like my choice of clothing? On the other hand, in a house of boys, she and I must take and give what compliments we can, since it may never occur to the rest of our family members to offer those kind observations about appearance that all women in some way or another need as much as breath or air...
What a gift it is to have a partner, a daughter, a friend. The relationship we are building surprises me at times; it is intimate and vulnerable in a way that is alien to my experience with my sons. I must parent her with more gentleness and subtlety, and I must love her with more openness and affection, and I think these things sometimes take me by surprise and find me unprepared. However, praise God, He must have expected that, for He created in Sarah the perfect, patient daughter for me. (All except the tantrums, of course. Lord, save us from the tantrums!)
It works.
As her eyes find mine, the uncertainty evaporates and her face cracks open in that beautiful smile of hers. I can almost hear the power of her voice finally joining strongly in as she focuses on me, her eyes giggling to see her little brother hopping on the seat beside me and waving at her for all he's worth. She doesn't miss a word of the recitation from that point onwards, and her eyes never leave my face. My cheeks hurt from the effort of smiling, and my heart bursts from the love of that sweet child.
Sarah, my precious, one-of-a-kind, sweet, strong girl.
She has grown so much over the past year that I almost can't believe it. It was about this time last spring that her pre-k teacher tried to convince me to hold her back another year - worried that this gentle, cautious child needed more time to develop her confidence and readiness for kindergarten. But, for better or worse, we decided it was best for her to move forward, even if it was a challenge, and what a joy it is to see her blossom - still in her own quiet way - under the care of a precious teacher whom God surely prepared just for her.
As the middle child, Sarah gets short-changed in our attention, but rather than hold it against us, she simply makes sure we know it when she needs a little extra loving - and spends the rest of the time in happy independence, relishing in the world of Make Believe and in her love of drawing. Lately she has discovered the power of being a Big Sister, and I often find Andrew trailing behind her in a princess costume, happily obeying every queenly command from his "Sawah." When they are not princesses, Sarah lets Andrew be her puppy, and he frolics around the house on the end of a leash made of plastic bead necklaces. (It is hopeless to interfere, in case anyone is beginning to question my parenting; trust me, I've tried.)
She has hit the point in the school year when the kindergarteners are expected to start reading to us at home, and I am amazed by her aptitude and excitement, especially considering the guilt I carry about not reading to her as much as to her brother(s). While Luke at this age had to be coaxed into trying anything more complicated than Go, Dog, Go, she insists on reading books that are really too complex for a beginner. The first few times, I convinced her to find an Easy Reader instead, but it didn't take long to see that she was up for the challenge of these harder books, and although we might spend a whole ten minutes on just two pages, it is more than her brother could (or would) do at this point, and I am thrilled to see her fierceness and determination. It is as if, under that timid and careful exterior, there is a child who will never know any limits.
Many of her classmates know her as "the girl with the really long hair," and although she sometimes wails about not having any friends, I see her surrounded by them every time I volunteer to read to her class or help with lunchtime. They flag her down at grocery stores and restaurants, and although she often responds so shyly that it is as if she never met them before, I hope that inside she is feeling that joy of friendship which she has obviously spent time quietly and loyally bestowing on these girls since the first day of school.
Sarah continues to assert her womanhood in our house with her particular opinions on clothing and hairstyles, and often makes approving (or not) remarks concerning my own choice of clothing. I'm never exactly sure how to take these comments: is it really a good thing for a five-year-old (whose favorite outfits continue to involve lots of pink, lots of patterns, and lots of irrational layering) to like my choice of clothing? On the other hand, in a house of boys, she and I must take and give what compliments we can, since it may never occur to the rest of our family members to offer those kind observations about appearance that all women in some way or another need as much as breath or air...
What a gift it is to have a partner, a daughter, a friend. The relationship we are building surprises me at times; it is intimate and vulnerable in a way that is alien to my experience with my sons. I must parent her with more gentleness and subtlety, and I must love her with more openness and affection, and I think these things sometimes take me by surprise and find me unprepared. However, praise God, He must have expected that, for He created in Sarah the perfect, patient daughter for me. (All except the tantrums, of course. Lord, save us from the tantrums!)
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