There are some nights when Annslee crawls into my bed at bedtime instead of hers. On this particular night…I crawled in next to her. She started talking…because…let’s face it…if she’s awake, she is talking.
She lifted my left arm and saddled up into the crook of my shoulder, my chin resting on her head…in that perfect spot for hair line kisses.
She said,
“Mom? When is my hair gonna grow?”
I replied, “It is growing.”
“I mean like Aiden’s,” she explained.
I reasoned with her, “When Aiden was your age, her hair was short like yours.”
Annslee argued, “But Josie is my age and her hair is grown like Aiden’s.”
Hmmmmm…this is true, I thought.
I pulled out my A team response…knowing that the B team would probably have to come off the bench too. And then likely the water boy would have to come clean up the mess that both the A and B teams made trying to make a little girl feel better about her short hair.
“Well…God makes everybody different and everybody’s hair different. It will grow. It will just take more time.”
I held my breath as she pondered this for a second…hoping that the mysterious wonder of the Lord would captivate her little heart and mind…making world hunger take up residence in her list of worries where short hair once resided. I mean….really. She’s 4. I’m 39 and am perfectly willing to admit that if my hair was not the way I wanted it…I would complain and do something about it. If it’s not the color I want…I spend a ridiculous amount of money on highlights. If it’s too long and straggly…I cut it. And once every 10 years, or so…when I decided that a sexy, short bob is definitely the way to go…I complain for days and immediately let it grow back out. So…what am I really expecting from my 4 year old who just wants hair to braid like her sister.
After a little thought, she explains, “Well…I can’t even feel it growing.”
I realize that this could be my out. This could be the one sentence in the conversation that offers a “change direction” sign.
I quickly add, “You don’t feel hair growing…It grows too slow to feel.”
Did we just circle back to the beginning of this conversation???? Why couldn’t I think like a teacher and launch into other things that grow slow but beautifully??? Like flowers…or grass…or tress…or fingernails. I could have even used it as a good nutrition lesson. If we eat things that are good for us…it helps us grow better. But I didn’t. And looking back…I think that is okay. I don’t think she was looking for a science or nutrition lesson. I think she was just needing me to listen to her…..and to validate why she is sad about her short hair. Because then she looked up into my eyes and said,
“I just think a lot of things. In my head.”
I kissed her whispy, white, short hair line and said, ” I know you do.”
And then she moved on to something else.
****
There are times when I catch images…and think:
“That’s about how I feel.”
And I’m all about the truth that “things” can’t fill a hole in your heart. We humans spend a lot of time and energy using things to try to sweep away the sad or stress. I mean…let’s not even talk about substances. Let’s be honest. A good outfit or pair of flip flops can often do the trick. For a minute, anyway. Until the next day…when your ticking and realize that you need a hit of Target’s garden section with the new floral rain boots because it promises happiness and a reprieve from the blah. I get it. It’s temporary. It’s false joy. Only God can bring lasting joy. Yeah yeah yeah…I get it. But…I’m just gonna go ahead and say that I don’t think it’s all bad to seek out snippets of beautiful and try to find happy. I like to think that’s what that verse means…wherever it is…about focusing on whatever is lovely and pure and good. Whenever my kids are scared…that’s what I tell them to do. This is no different. Right? I’m sure of it.
So…this past week, I sought out happy. I got rid of that sad, dead plant from the Fall. It was the past. And it didn’t need to be sitting on my front porch any longer. It doesn’t mean it was never there. But I didn’t need to dwell on it and look at it every day.
I didn’t even have to look past my own front yard…
or driveway. For the first time…Chase asked to get in the game. And he did.
I watched my girl cart-wheel. What’s not to love about watching little girl’s cartwheel…hair flying; limbs flailing?
She wanted to see if her friend could play. She was a little unsure about going to the door by herself. And I walk a fine line between “You are a big girl…you can do it yourself” encouragement and “She won’t ask me to walk with her much longer” truth. This time…I smiled and walked with her…knowing that at some point in the near future…she won’t need me for these kinds of things. She won’t ask me to walk with her. And I will miss that.
New brightly colored sidewalk chalk makes flowers and rainbows happier than ever.
We celebrated small bow graduation. Little miss wore her first “big” bow.
I stopped surviving on frozen waffles and Dr. Pepper and decided to put some fresh food on my plate.
I realized that Easter was only 2 weeks away and found dresses that give “white cotton dresses with blue, satin sashes” a new, fresh meaning.
And I may, or may not have thrown my own cartwheel. Watching cartwheels makes me smile……
…but doing them makes me laugh.