She puts her finger in the small of my back and pushes, gently massaging while we watch TV. During times of confusing crowds she grabs the skin of my elbows and kneads it. After nightime prayer, she flings her arms around my neck, stiffening her muscles so I can’t escape and grinning. In the tough moments, where tears escape or I hide, pretending to nap on the couch, she fills the cup with water and grabs the tissue. When her sister’s tween hormones defeat efforts of self control, she grabs the only salve that works, a black guinea pig and carries him gently to the heaving body on the bed. Her instincts to comfort trump my own. And I wish I could make her see how such a gift is akin to an Olympic Medal. As an added bonus its risk of pride is much lower.
She tosses out phrases that dance in my mind. Carrot brown. Dubious intentions. Feathery Eggs. She sees the clouds, the light, the gentle curve on the bill of the heron, the missing spot of the back of the toad she holds, and the way the eyes of her friend retreats when she mentions food. She started confronting others who hurt her at two. The poor toddler, she wasn’t prepared for verbal I-statements. “When you ran off to play with that other girl and didn’t tell me, you hurt my feelings.” Most adults can’t muster courage to confront so healthy or even identify their own emotions. Her powers of expression and observation they too are gifts, mightier than the World Cup team she longs to join.
Joining Lisa Jo and Brave Word Warriors as we begin to exhale for the weekend. Today’s 5-minute write was on the word SHE. And really, I didn’t know where this one would go…to my prayers for my girls to see what God has given them.