My eldest daughter, Kennedy, will be 15 years old in a few months. She's becoming a woman. She told me that she is ready to handle herself. She made a request. 'Mother, I love you and appreciate all that you do for me. However, I would like for you to let go and allow me to handle my affairs at school and on trips that I take. And, please understand that I will come to you when I need you.' I cried 2 tears, from just one eye, and honored her request. A woman's request. We've worked to create a line a of communication. It would not be right for me to ignore such a jump into maturity. I'm her ghost hitter. I love who she is. And am happy she isn't me.
My Maddie. She is the center of my children. Maddie in the Middle. The Green Kangaroo. She sparkles. Reminds me of crisp fall, with new frost on the deck, catching sun rays, warming into beautiful mornings. A beacon of truth and light. A pursuer of excellence and achievement. She wants to be more and know more. She works hard and plays hard. Eager to help and impatient with injustice. Quick to recognize 'the least of these,' and to defend. She is amazing in every sense of the word. Born late and screaming. Let the world know she had made it. Her debut comical. She still snuggles with me when she is sick, though no longer is my lap large enough. We've moved to spooning in my bed. I'll take it. It won't be there for the taking much longer.
Soon these two will leave. Time marches... and mocks the while.
I will be left with Just Julia. Julia. Julia.
Julia. Precocious, wise, witty. I'll never have a problem letting her be her own woman. I don't have a choice. Julia is 8. 2nd grade. Top reader in her class. Not in her whole grade, as she pointed out to me, just her class. But, some day she'll beat that Johanna Swedberg! Julia was born on Halloween. A pumpkin. Though not plump and round like most newborns and pumpkins. Slender. A face like an adult. Tiny. She didn't cry or make any noise. I worried when she didn't. The nurse told me she was perfect, just not chatty. She smiled at me before she ever made a noise. Smiles--always.
Julia came from Heaven with a specific delegation. She knows what it is. I don't. She's had me on the bench form the beginning. She allows me to think I'm coaching the game. But, I'm not. Not really.
At 5 months, the doctors told me to get accustomed to the idea that she would not live to be very old. Part of her brain had not matured and she would not live long. CTScans and MRI's and tests and IV's in my child's delicate body. Tiny babies swaddled, but alone in hospital cribs. I'll never forget the ache and anguish. Pain. Hurt. Even anger. Trying to never question the Lord's plan, but accept it. It was hard.
I don't remember when the pinnacle moment came for me. The moment of acceptance and the willingness to let go of my pride. It doesn't matter. She is mine...they all are. We are sealed for all time, literally and spiritually. And yet, they belong to the eternities. I accept their plans and missions. I'll help prepare them for their work. I enjoy being their mom. I want to be their mom.
The year we moved to a new school, town, state...we established a routine of mom picking up the girls at Door 11. It's at the back of the school. Quieter, fewer kids. Only a couple of teachers use that door. It was a habit for all of us. Sometimes, i would bring a picnic snack and we would sit in the grass and enjoy the sun kisses. It became our tradition. Part of our families lexicon.
And, now...Jules is in 2nd grade. Practically a woman. She is the last to meet me at Door 11. Kennedy has moved to an entirely new school in a different town. Maddie meets me at a door that is more convenient to her schedule. Time marched on.
As, Julia peeled herself out of my van this morning she inquired dutifully, "Door 11 at 4:15 , mom?" Perfect symphony to my ears. Yes, Door 11 at 4:15. Always.
Gone are the days of Disney Channel and Nickelodeon in my home. Barbies and Dollys get less and less face time. Snuggles and smooches for no reason. Grubby hands presenting me with blades of grass, just for being mommy. All absconded by time...left for more womanly pursuits. Oh, how I desperately miss it. I wish I had known to appreciate more. To relish and find the treasure in the moments of time.
No matter. Time knows where to find me. Door 11. 4:15. I'll be there.
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