After our road trip to Indiana, it took me several days to get up the gumption to climb all the way into the back-back of my van (I mean, who knows what I might find back there) and unbuckle Jayci’s carseat so I could anchor it back in the seat right behind me. My laziness led to many unfortunate disagreements because I could never quite hear what Jayci was trying to ask me, leading her to frustration and much whining; which, obviously, then caused me to also be frustrated and possibly a little whiny myself. Despite our communication breakdown, Jayci loved having her carseat way in the back, because then Zack could sit next to her.
And the other day, I overheard this conversation between the two of them (don’t ask me how since I couldn’t normally strain my ears hard enough to hear even Jayci’s loudest pleas):
Jayci – I follow my friend whatever she does.
Zack – You don’t always have to follow her.
Jayci – YES I DO!
Zack –You can be a leader and she could follow you.
Jayci – But when I tell her “come this way” she will just go the other way and not listen to me.
Zack paused for a minute, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror before telling Jayci: But even if she doesn’t follow you, you can still go the other way. You can still be a leader. (have I mentioned how much I love my Zack?)
I’ve since moved Jayci’s carseat to the middle row (although I still haven’t cleaned out our van since the road-trip. Jayci may or may not have told me it was ‘disgusting’ the other day). But I still can’t get their conversation out of my head.
We walk into her first day of preschool, and Jayci suddenly falls silent, her fingers popping into mouth and her eyes locked on the ground. And I think about their conversation.
My grandfather visits, and we watch home movies from when I was an awkward middle-schooler, and I see my own head ducked to the ground, my hand covering my mouth and my voice shaking with insecurity.
How can I reach her with truth? How can I instill confidence in a girl, formed in my womb, so deeply embedded in my heart? This is exactly why I was scared to have a daughter. I don’t know how to help her avoid the traps I fell into. Because I’m still not sure how I got there, or how I got out. No desire delves more deeply into my heart than that of seeing Jayci confident. Not SELF-confident, necessarily. More like God-confident. With a healthy identity, a whole and truthful view of who she is, who she was created to be. For her to look in the mirror and see what I see, not what she thinks she should see.
I open my eyes to see the clock mocking me: 2:45, 2:46, 2:51. . . 2:56 . . . . I brush blonde hair from her eyes, gentle disentangle her limbs from mine as she has ended up sprawled, somehow, lengthwise with her legs over my belly. I am laid low by her pink cheeks, her long legs, slips of wrists, purple nails, lashes rested on rounded cheeks. Her eyes pop open blue and sleepy, and I hold my breath, hoping she’ll sink back into sleep. She smiles at me, and says “mommy let's snuggle all night long.” And I smile back, sighing with contentment while also realizing that means I wont be getting much sleep. I’m what you might describe as a “particular” sleeper. I need my space and quiet and dark. Unfortunate requirements for any mother, let alone one with two little ones who don’t appear to enjoy any of those things.
Instead I lay awake, wondering how not to fail her.
And I realize somehow, as soft closet-light shines on her fingers clenched tightly around her pink monkey, that I WILL in fact fail her. And that I'll never be able to shield her from all the world’s hurt and lies and hate and darkness.
So I must always do my best to also expose her to the light, to the Truth, to love. To show her how to see it all through eyes of grace. And grace is what will carry her and me both through our shortcomings, through not knowing the right words to say, or the right way to parent my beautiful daughter into confidence. Grace covers. It heals, it brightens, and it makes us even more beautiful in the process.
I pray in the dark hours, in the middle of the night with her too-quickly-growing-up-self strewn across my bed. I pray for her, I whisper truth into her ears. And all day, I remind her that I delight in her, that even when I lose my temper, even when I yell at her to GO TO HER ROOM, I am still equally delighted in every part of her. And I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror and tell her I love her, every single time, even when she’s whining for a “special treat” or asking me the seven thousandth question for the day.
As a mom, I know just what I want to point Jayci towards. I want her to be brave, to stand up for what is right. I long for her to love those around her, to follow Jesus, to walk in Truth. I just don’t always know how to get her there. Her sin and my sin get in the way. My selfish desires or misplaced fears get my feet off the parenting path I so badly want to be walking. I see that Jayci is naturally quieter and shy. And I know those aren’t BAD things, I just see so much of myself in her, and I want to shield her from the hurt I walked through, so I’m tempted to tell her to change. To try and force her to be someone she’s not. But as I sit here and write these words and think of my beautiful girl, I quickly realize that’s not even a little bit what I desire for her. Rather, I her to know it’s ok to be shy, it’s ok to be quiet, to be an introvert. But I also want her to be confident and at peace with how she is shaped. Or if she’s not REALLY shy and just feeling insecure, then I want to get rid of the insecurity. Do you see how I talk myself in circles here? This parenting gig is harder than it looks y'all.
I don’t know a lot about instilling confidence in my daughter (and all the girls we work with really). But I do know this: I cannot do it alone. I desperately need to remember that God loves Jayci far better than I do, and He will carry her (and I) each step of the way. He will speak truth to her heart, and it is my job to point her towards it. I will beg God for patience, for forgiveness, for grace to cover my shortcomings. And I will ask Him every day to help me live by example.
Because I’m just as guilty of always going the way people want me to go, because I’m afraid no one will follow me if I turn in the other direction. But I think if I can be brave enough to speak up for truth, to write bravely and boldly about the things I believe in, even if I’m afraid no one will follow me or listen to me. To defend the causes and people I know matter, to be myself, to be ok with being an introvert, to write and take pictures. Because the important lessons are best learned lived out, for Jayci and for me alike.
So I will keep seeing beauty even in that which is broken. In the swaggering teenager who barely lets hope flicker in his eyes. In the ever-growing cloud of kiddos who surround us each morning as we walk to school. In the abandoned homes and forgotten children, in the loud kids and the quiet ones alike. Won’t my LIFE always speak louder than my words to Jayci? Wont I be telling her, by example, that we are all worth it? Or rather, than none of us deserve this dazzling grace but that God bestows it freely and calls us worthy anyways?
I tuck her under my arm, close my eyes, knowing I will never fall asleep, but content to hold her golden head close and breath in her nearly-four-year-old self for as long as I can.
How about you? Any suggestions or practical ways to instill confidence in our daughters?
And the other day, I overheard this conversation between the two of them (don’t ask me how since I couldn’t normally strain my ears hard enough to hear even Jayci’s loudest pleas):
Jayci – I follow my friend whatever she does.
Zack – You don’t always have to follow her.
Jayci – YES I DO!
Zack –You can be a leader and she could follow you.
Jayci – But when I tell her “come this way” she will just go the other way and not listen to me.
Zack paused for a minute, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror before telling Jayci: But even if she doesn’t follow you, you can still go the other way. You can still be a leader. (have I mentioned how much I love my Zack?)
We walk into her first day of preschool, and Jayci suddenly falls silent, her fingers popping into mouth and her eyes locked on the ground. And I think about their conversation.
My grandfather visits, and we watch home movies from when I was an awkward middle-schooler, and I see my own head ducked to the ground, my hand covering my mouth and my voice shaking with insecurity.
How can I reach her with truth? How can I instill confidence in a girl, formed in my womb, so deeply embedded in my heart? This is exactly why I was scared to have a daughter. I don’t know how to help her avoid the traps I fell into. Because I’m still not sure how I got there, or how I got out. No desire delves more deeply into my heart than that of seeing Jayci confident. Not SELF-confident, necessarily. More like God-confident. With a healthy identity, a whole and truthful view of who she is, who she was created to be. For her to look in the mirror and see what I see, not what she thinks she should see.
I open my eyes to see the clock mocking me: 2:45, 2:46, 2:51. . . 2:56 . . . . I brush blonde hair from her eyes, gentle disentangle her limbs from mine as she has ended up sprawled, somehow, lengthwise with her legs over my belly. I am laid low by her pink cheeks, her long legs, slips of wrists, purple nails, lashes rested on rounded cheeks. Her eyes pop open blue and sleepy, and I hold my breath, hoping she’ll sink back into sleep. She smiles at me, and says “mommy let's snuggle all night long.” And I smile back, sighing with contentment while also realizing that means I wont be getting much sleep. I’m what you might describe as a “particular” sleeper. I need my space and quiet and dark. Unfortunate requirements for any mother, let alone one with two little ones who don’t appear to enjoy any of those things.
Instead I lay awake, wondering how not to fail her.
So I must always do my best to also expose her to the light, to the Truth, to love. To show her how to see it all through eyes of grace. And grace is what will carry her and me both through our shortcomings, through not knowing the right words to say, or the right way to parent my beautiful daughter into confidence. Grace covers. It heals, it brightens, and it makes us even more beautiful in the process.
I pray in the dark hours, in the middle of the night with her too-quickly-growing-up-self strewn across my bed. I pray for her, I whisper truth into her ears. And all day, I remind her that I delight in her, that even when I lose my temper, even when I yell at her to GO TO HER ROOM, I am still equally delighted in every part of her. And I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror and tell her I love her, every single time, even when she’s whining for a “special treat” or asking me the seven thousandth question for the day.
As a mom, I know just what I want to point Jayci towards. I want her to be brave, to stand up for what is right. I long for her to love those around her, to follow Jesus, to walk in Truth. I just don’t always know how to get her there. Her sin and my sin get in the way. My selfish desires or misplaced fears get my feet off the parenting path I so badly want to be walking. I see that Jayci is naturally quieter and shy. And I know those aren’t BAD things, I just see so much of myself in her, and I want to shield her from the hurt I walked through, so I’m tempted to tell her to change. To try and force her to be someone she’s not. But as I sit here and write these words and think of my beautiful girl, I quickly realize that’s not even a little bit what I desire for her. Rather, I her to know it’s ok to be shy, it’s ok to be quiet, to be an introvert. But I also want her to be confident and at peace with how she is shaped. Or if she’s not REALLY shy and just feeling insecure, then I want to get rid of the insecurity. Do you see how I talk myself in circles here? This parenting gig is harder than it looks y'all.
I don’t know a lot about instilling confidence in my daughter (and all the girls we work with really). But I do know this: I cannot do it alone. I desperately need to remember that God loves Jayci far better than I do, and He will carry her (and I) each step of the way. He will speak truth to her heart, and it is my job to point her towards it. I will beg God for patience, for forgiveness, for grace to cover my shortcomings. And I will ask Him every day to help me live by example.
So I will keep seeing beauty even in that which is broken. In the swaggering teenager who barely lets hope flicker in his eyes. In the ever-growing cloud of kiddos who surround us each morning as we walk to school. In the abandoned homes and forgotten children, in the loud kids and the quiet ones alike. Won’t my LIFE always speak louder than my words to Jayci? Wont I be telling her, by example, that we are all worth it? Or rather, than none of us deserve this dazzling grace but that God bestows it freely and calls us worthy anyways?
I tuck her under my arm, close my eyes, knowing I will never fall asleep, but content to hold her golden head close and breath in her nearly-four-year-old self for as long as I can.
How about you? Any suggestions or practical ways to instill confidence in our daughters?