Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Face of An Angel

I rush out the door, a kid under each arm, mumbling less-than-decent words under my breath.  It is Monday, Ben's test day, and I am exhausted.  Tired of migraines.  Tired of uneasy sleep.  Tired of whiny children.  Tired of medical school.  Just. Plain. Tired.

Unsure of what the time is, or when the little girl's class starts, I swerve the car in this and that direction as I can't remember what street her dance school is on.  We arrive, I grab her leotard, ballet shoes, and tights, unbuckle the kiddos, and rush inside.  I find an empty chair, undress, dress, undress again (forgot the tights), and re-dress the girl in her first dance outfit.  I sit with her on my lap and Andrew on the side doing headstands or some other acrobatic feat (especially because his chubby legs) and look around.  My face, I'm sure, carries the burden of a frustrated day: of endless exhaustion, pain, fear, depression, anxiety, and every other negative emotion I have felt over the past 8 hours.  The lady across the way smiles at me, holding her darling grandchild in her lap.

I feel Emily's excitement as she looks around.  Soon her teacher comes out to bring the students in.  Emily's nervousness overtakes her enthusiasm, and she holds one of my hands while my other arm is tightly wrapped on her wiggly brother who "wanna dance!" with his sister.

The music starts.  She watches.  Her bubbly self more reserved around her peers.  Her face is curious.  She eagerly waits to participate while also choosing to watch the other girls dance.

I stare.  I am in awe of her beauty.  The ensemble perfectly brings out her pink cheeks and light blue eyes.  Her curly strawberry blonde hair attracts the light and her innocence hangs above her like a halo.  I watch as her teacher grabs her hand and encourages her to move.  She smiles.  I know that deep down she is moving.  I also know that, despite her reservation, she is having the time of her life.  Every now and then, I see as she looks around for me.  Briefly locking eyes, I smile and she turns back to the teacher.

The class ends.  She races to my legs, imploring for me to pick her up and squeeze her tight.  Which I do.  With gladness, she thanks the teacher, laughs with her brother, and holds my hand as we walk outside.

"We have fun together in dance school," she tells me.

And I realize that this girl is the best parts of me. I also know that I want to be like her when I finally grow up.  I will if I listen, watch, and allow her sweet grace and spirit to smooth down my rough edges.

This is brought to you by Heather's Just Write.

—-This week’s supportive parenting theme is saying sorry.  How do you say sorry?  How do your kids say sorry? Funny stories about apologizing?  Let’s hear it.—-


  1. Oh, I have tears. I needed to read this. So much. I've held that face, that look, that tiredness. I want to hold "And I realize that this girl is the best parts of me." Yes, that.

    This? Is gorgeous. Truly.

  2. Oh thank you, galitbreen. I am actually speechless by your kind words and can't say much but "grumble, grumble." So thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

  3. Beautiful. I know exactly what you mean, we can learn so much from our kids.

    I'm sorry you are having such a hard time right now. I know how it is. Hang in there.

  4. This is beautiful. You have so many gifts. Your words. Those beautiful babies.

    I also understand the feelings...so very much.

    Much love.

  5. That really was a sweet sweet post.

  6. This week, hoping to get out of a grump, I started copying my two year old. She does the best silly walks, sings her own songs, is magic. I wish I could grow up as inquisitive and kind as my firstborn and as spontaneous and daring as my second.

    Lovely Amber, lovely!

  7. This whole post is riveting, beautiful, but the last paragraph is my absolute favorite.
    (PS. This is my first time here. I found you through Heather's link-up today.)

  8. Thank you for stopping by, Sarah! I have been gone all day so I'm sorry it took me so long to respond. You are so sweet. Sometimes I wonder why my hardest days are the easiest to write about. Haha. : )

  9. Thank you for writing with me. This was just exactly what I meant and it's lovely. I'm sorry life is stressful right now and I'm also inspired by you because you saw the beauty of you in your sweet angel in the midst of it all.

  10. Ahhhhh, now I'm missing little Emily! How fun that she gets to be in a dance class! Sorry you've had a rough few days!

  11. Your comment on my post made my heart ache.

    Then I came here and read your words and I see that without knowing it, you absolutely get it. You just don't think you do. Re-read your beautiful words and replace Emily's name with Amber and pretend, for just a moment, that you are reading a little journal from God. He is delighted with you, just as you are awestruck by Emily. And His words to you are this: "And I realize that this girl, Amber, is the best part of me."

  12. I think I'm going to stop trying to grow up and start to grow down instead. Kids seem to have it figured out. Thank you!

  13. Love the way you started with anxiety and ended with feeling some grace. Those faces and their smiles. I often am amazed how a single moment or glance from my daughter can completely change my mood.


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