Notes for my Girl

I don’t get you. Especially recently. The way you think. The moments you act out. Your daddy says it’s because you’re 6 and you’re still learning life. He gets you. He always has.

And I think it’s because you are me. And all the things that rub me wrong are the things in my own heart that could use some work. Like your impatience. That’s me. Your need for perfection and the total meltdown that happens if you don’t achieve it. Yep, me too. The way you ask for every detail of a story or event, and how you get really frustrated when people aren’t specific. Sorry kid, that’s me too.

It’s amazing how children are such a bright reflection of the things we need to work on. I remember before having you and your brother, I was afraid, and even unsure if I wanted kids. Mostly because I knew how screwed up I was and how I desperately didn’t want to pass along my junk to my kids. But I’ve learned some things. And even though I still fail (often), there has also been growth.

My hope, my prayer, is that we can take these rough traits and smooth the edges in you. That I can learn to take my time. To embrace each moment. To let life flow without a pressing agenda. And that you’ll see that. And you’ll follow.

That I’ll continue to learn grace for myself, and gentleness. That perfection to me, would be peace in a situation, rather than what the world would define as perfect. And that you’ll see that in me too, and maybe be even better at it than me someday.

Years from now, I don’t want you to be worried of how your children will mirror you, but proud of how patient they are, how brave they love, the grace they give, and how they bring such peace to those around them. As many have said, I want my ceiling to be your floor. I want my weaknesses to be your greatest strengths.