A Love Letter of Grace

When you were a baby, a toddler and then a little girl, I devoted my time and attention shaping you into my little princess.  I loved you so dearly that I wanted to create for you a fairy tale world where dreams come true, where magic happens and where evil does not exist.  I filled your room with castles and tiaras.  I bought you outfits that were precious and sweet.  I kept you close always and we became best friends.  We went everywhere together.  I was there to interpret to the outside world when you were overly shy and reticent.  I protected and provided for you in the way I have always wanted for myself.

The years of elementary school flew by too quickly and all too quickly, you established your own personality.  The castles and tiaras were not for you, nor were the outfits coordinated from head to toe.  You liked to be a bit quirky, dressing always with an element of surprise.  You grew in your own way, wanting to be included and respected by others, but not always wanting to blend in with the crowd.  When I was your age, I did not have the self-possession to be my own person.  I find myself still trying to protect and to provide for you in the way I have always wanted for myself–as if you are me.  I find myself loving you by projecting me–and protecting me.

Now you stand before me, a willowy model of grace.  Now as you stand before me, I finally realize you were sent into my life, born as my daughter, to teach me about grace.  So many years I have wasted and squandered, trying to prove that I am worthy of love and respect.  I worked hard at becoming that perfect person in the eyes of others.  My personality changed to fit whomever I was with but the goal was always the same–to gain love and respect.  I pursued acceptance by conforming to the situation and people around me.   And I have spent your lifetime loving you as if you were me.

Ahhhhh, but look at you!  How beautiful you are!  You are beginning to blossom into womanhood, in spite of all my energies, insecurities and love to mold you into a fairy tale princess.  How beautiful you are and so loveable!  Different, unique, quirky and altogether wonderful, you are exactly who you were meant to be–and no one else.

Indeed, you were sent to me as a love letter.  You were sent to me as a gift of Grace.

 

 

A Love Letter

I knew of you for years before meeting you face-to-face.  I was in awe of you even before we actually met.  You would come into the room and the room would come alive.  Everyone clamored for your attention.  You were the life of the party.  As you shared the details of your golden life, their lives paled in obscurity.  It was obvious that you were a mover and a shaker in the midst of a world of the mundane.

I watched you from a distance.  I watched how easily you commanded those around you.  I watched as others fell under your spell.  You responded with callous humor and well-chosen words.  Those well-chosen words hinted at your intelligence, that you were a deeper well from which to drink than you preferred to let on.  You noticed my disdain from my high perch and you began to tease and to taunt.  My ruffled feathers intrigued you beyond the antics of the others.  Our banter became a source of entertainment for most and of jealousy for a few.

We began to poke and to prod in private, baiting and inquiring.  A certain level of friendship based on respect began to develop, a foundation built on a fault line of loneliness and need even though we were opposites.  Some may call it desperation.  And so finally when we met face-to-face, vulnerable and transparent, a lifetime of experiences had already been shared.  Yet we sat across the table a bit awkwardly as if we were total strangers.  On that day, a decision was made.  Dare we continue to lower our guards, exposing ourselves to closer scrutiny and dropping the masks that all others see, or do we walk away and never look back?

And if we chose to walk away and never look back, how would I forget the pain you carried as an armor, insulating you in callous humor and isolating you from further injury?  How would I forget how tenderly you cared for me when I was my most vulnerable?  How would I forget what it was like for you when the rug was pulled from under you and yet you pulled yourself upright and began to fight again?  How would I forget how many times I pestered you in the middle of a busy day with questions of how to cook a common dish and you responded in simple detail and with grace and patience?  How would I forget those rare times when you laid down a piece of your armor to let me see the real you inside and the journey you’ve had in life?   And ironically, those rare times came after I had exploded in the moment from frustration, accusing you of being cold-hearted and self-centered.  And now, I see time and time again how you’ve quietly gone to bat for the underdog or quietly sacrificed for the sake of your children.   I remember the day when you shared that one was in trouble, that it was the worst day of your life.

I knew of you for years before meeting you face-to-face.  The charisma surrounding you then has been honed with time and adversity into an unshakable, unmistakable
maturity.  Your dark hair has grayed and middle-aged pugginess has settled about you.  Still I see the same person of whom I was in awe those many years ago.  The friendship has certainly deepened, built on a foundation of respect that comes from intimacy and vulnerability.  Through the give-and-take of the life that we’ve shared, you have given me far more than you’ve taken.  You have moved and shaken my world like no other.  You are the party of my heart and my life is golden with you in it.

And so finally here we are, still face-to-face, and yet more vulnerable and transparent.  A lifetime of experiences we have faced together.  Some were a first for you and others a first for me.  Most were common to any relationship.  And I am still in awe of you.