I am a really sensitive person.
Stop laffin. I am!
Truly. I remember everything anyone has ever said to me. Any hurt, any slight. It sticks with me. I forgive, but much like my rump sized counterparts, I have an elephants memory.
I cry over hurting anyone. If I hurt you, I hurt too.
My daughter has gotten this gene. And I have to send her out into the world like this.
I watch her at school, on the playground. A little girl sits beside her, and my girl reaches over, pulls up the little girls hood, and yanks her zipper up to her chin. She then hugs her and kisses her cheek.
And my heart busts.
Because I just know...one day, it will all come down. Somebody will wound her, terribly. And she will curl around that soft spot in her soul and forevermore pretend it doesn't exist. She will hide it behind sarcasm and a toughness that isn't true.
So help me, if I find out who that person is...
Well, I digress.
I just want to protect her from that. But how? How? Do I try to toughen her up? Do I push her to be less sensitive, less motherly? Do I wound her first, in a thousand small ways, so she learns how to protect herself?
I just can't. I treasure that light inside of her- the one that makes her shine so bright to others right now, but soon will draw anyone looking for an easy target. I want to hold her tight forever and keep her from losing that gentleness that Jesus has surely, tenderly planted in her mind and soul. It's a gift, but one that comes with a sad price- the ability to be blooded and wounded by those who surround you.
I am lucky enough that those I choose to surround mhyself with love her too, and treasure her, just as she is. Her teachers adore her. My friends as well. Our family- well they don't just think she hung the moon, they KNOW it.
But I am so afraid this world will scar her, and she will begin to hide what makes her so unique and beautiful- her love and care for others. Her ability to instantly empathize with another's pain. Her tears for other's tears, her care for other's hurts.
It is a wonder to behold, something intrinsic. Something untaught or unforced. The work of a loving God, all inside my baby girl.
She is like the flower that bears her name- beautiful, lovely, and so so fragile. She will go out into thid world and bloom, and I won't always be there to shelter her. So I have to arm her- but how?
Well there it is. This is the crux of motherhood. Let them out, hope to God you have done enough, and pray, pray pray. And then pray some more. And when they come back and the world has caused pain, heal them. And then send them out again. And feel your heart crack and bleed for the beauty of this love that cannot be explained, named, or given words.
My beautiful darling Lily, please don't lose that tender spot Jesus placed in your soul. I promise to always honor it....even when others do not.
