A Costly Gift
Do you remember Miss Independent? I thought the independence of a two-year-old girl was unnerving, but I'm finding out it only gets more intense.
She's no longer two, but four. Her independent streak has indeed doubled in size...and it's more than a bit frightening. With the passage of time, the list of things she "just doesn't need her mom for anymore" grows obnoxiously. It is a blatant reminder of the fact that not only is she getting older, but so am I. All I can do is watch her grow in independence, and hope that what I try to teach her will influence her choices for the better.
Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't.
They say that in the first few weeks of life newborns do not even recognize that they are separate entities from their mothers, but rather consider themselves to be an extension of said mother...kind of like another appendage. Sadly, this phase doesn't last too long. As they grow and develop, each day brings new monuments of independence...the apron strings stretch longer and longer.
Speaking of aprons...I no longer have any say in how my four-year-old dresses. None. She is dressed by the time she exits her room in the morning and all the bargaining and pleading in the world is not going to change the outfit of her choice. Princess dresses over shorts, mismatched patterns, jeans under skirts...you name it. Three weeks ago we were off to spend the day in the city before picking up her Dad at the airport and she made her dramatic entrance into the kitchen sporting a lovely pair of legwarmers on her forearms. She explained that it was the perfect way to be able to wear her favourite short-sleeved T-shirt and keep her arms warm, and when I gave her "the look," she said, "What? Don't you like my style, Mom??"
Her style indeed. She got many compliments on her style that day, and it did my pride good to relinquish the reins to her on that one. Really, what did it hurt? And in the scope of things, I am sure it bolstered her own sense of identity quite a bit...not to mention the fact that, plain and simple, she thought it was fun. It was a little gift I could give her that cost me nothing more than pride (which I am happy to, and ought to sacrifice a little more often).
Choice. Free will. Makes you wonder what God was thinking when He freely gave that gift to Adam, doesn't it? Why not make Man incapable of messing up, choosing poorly, or making a mockery of the Creator? Surely with one breath He could have designed mankind in such a way that we would make a better companion to Him...loyal to a fault, faithful in all situations, loving unconditionally and entirely pure. And yet.
Perhaps if I could control each of my daughter's choices, some day she could grow up to be some kind of super-human...possessing all the attributes I think are worth possessing (said tongue-in-cheek). It's ludicrous to think that way. Besides...who says I would make all the right decisions anyways? Without a doubt, I most certainly would not. I struggle enough as it is to know what the best choices are for her. Somehow, I must know that the gift of freedom is the better option.
After all, it's the way the Creator designed it to work. And once again, it's just another reason for me to fall to my knees and admit my utter dependence on One who hung the stars and goes before my daughter.
Not only did He freely give us the costly gift of choice, he is completely un-phased by four year olds sporting leg warmers on their forearms.
She's no longer two, but four. Her independent streak has indeed doubled in size...and it's more than a bit frightening. With the passage of time, the list of things she "just doesn't need her mom for anymore" grows obnoxiously. It is a blatant reminder of the fact that not only is she getting older, but so am I. All I can do is watch her grow in independence, and hope that what I try to teach her will influence her choices for the better.
Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't.
They say that in the first few weeks of life newborns do not even recognize that they are separate entities from their mothers, but rather consider themselves to be an extension of said mother...kind of like another appendage. Sadly, this phase doesn't last too long. As they grow and develop, each day brings new monuments of independence...the apron strings stretch longer and longer.
Speaking of aprons...I no longer have any say in how my four-year-old dresses. None. She is dressed by the time she exits her room in the morning and all the bargaining and pleading in the world is not going to change the outfit of her choice. Princess dresses over shorts, mismatched patterns, jeans under skirts...you name it. Three weeks ago we were off to spend the day in the city before picking up her Dad at the airport and she made her dramatic entrance into the kitchen sporting a lovely pair of legwarmers on her forearms. She explained that it was the perfect way to be able to wear her favourite short-sleeved T-shirt and keep her arms warm, and when I gave her "the look," she said, "What? Don't you like my style, Mom??"
Her style indeed. She got many compliments on her style that day, and it did my pride good to relinquish the reins to her on that one. Really, what did it hurt? And in the scope of things, I am sure it bolstered her own sense of identity quite a bit...not to mention the fact that, plain and simple, she thought it was fun. It was a little gift I could give her that cost me nothing more than pride (which I am happy to, and ought to sacrifice a little more often).
Choice. Free will. Makes you wonder what God was thinking when He freely gave that gift to Adam, doesn't it? Why not make Man incapable of messing up, choosing poorly, or making a mockery of the Creator? Surely with one breath He could have designed mankind in such a way that we would make a better companion to Him...loyal to a fault, faithful in all situations, loving unconditionally and entirely pure. And yet.
Perhaps if I could control each of my daughter's choices, some day she could grow up to be some kind of super-human...possessing all the attributes I think are worth possessing (said tongue-in-cheek). It's ludicrous to think that way. Besides...who says I would make all the right decisions anyways? Without a doubt, I most certainly would not. I struggle enough as it is to know what the best choices are for her. Somehow, I must know that the gift of freedom is the better option.
After all, it's the way the Creator designed it to work. And once again, it's just another reason for me to fall to my knees and admit my utter dependence on One who hung the stars and goes before my daughter.
Not only did He freely give us the costly gift of choice, he is completely un-phased by four year olds sporting leg warmers on their forearms.
Comments
So good to read your blog again. I know the days have been more than busy but I enjoy reading.