Ok y’all, I miss meeting with you here. I’ve even forgotten where certain letters are on my keyboard. I retyped this sentence because it looked like this initially: Invr fotgottwn where ceryain prtters are on mu keuboard. 🙂
As my fingers find their way home, I pray the words jostling around in my heart find their way out and into this space again. For over the summer, I realized something quite profound.
My daughter is more important than my dream.
I remember the wrinkles under the eyes of my newborn daughter as she slept in my arms. I remember the way her little fingers curled around my thumb. I remember forming her tiny toes into a perfectly pointed ballerina foot and outfitting her in onesies with ballerinas on them.
I was once a ballerina, soloist, and dance teacher. I dream of my daughter following in my dancing footsteps.
This summer I signed my girl up for her first ballet class. I could barely contain my tears as I watched her try on her first pair of ballet slippers. Happy tears fell again as I gently pushed shiny bobby pins into her curly hair- using them to form a perfect ballerina bun.
And then… my girl walked through the dance studio door with a wave and smile. Watching her move her body to the music made my mama’s heart leap for joy. My dream was happening.
Or maybe it wasn’t…
The first half hour of her class went smoothly. But then my tiny dancer decided to stop dancing and sprint around the room (gasp) while the rest of the class stood on the tape line; mimicking the teacher. Yes, my girl is only three years old, and this was her first experience in a dance class. But remember, I am a retired ballet teacher.
Ain’t nobody stepped off the line or ran around in my class y’all. Nobody. 🙂
Of course, the precious parents sitting around me offered their condolences, assuring me that my daughter would master the choreography. According to them, it would only take another week or two for her to do so.
By the end of the 4th week and around the usual 25-30 minute mark, my girl would break away from the line. She still did NOT understand or care about learning the dance steps.
My daughter was NOT buying into my dream for her. She is an awesome runner with an adorable smile though.
As my daughter matures, I am noticing her God-given free-spirited personality. Yes, my girl is loud and energetic like me, but this whole do not go with the flow and chill attitude- I know nothing about this. I like to stand on the tape line and mimic the teacher. Running around the room is not something I do.
There are, however, moments where my daughter’s carefree spirit helps me to literally stop and smell the flowers, or sing an extra silly song before bedtime. I love this about my girl. She is teaching me to unwind, step off the tape line, and chill a bit.
Maybe someday she will put on another pair of ballet slippers and stand on the tape line.
Truth is; I do not want my daughter to stand still if God created her to run. I can either force my dream on her or let it go so I can discover what makes my girl’s heart happy.
It is either my daughter or my dream.
I choose her.
I had my chance to enjoy dancing ballet solos and teaching ballet. It is my daughter’sturn to explore God’s plan for her life. It is also the beginning of me letting go as my little girl blossoms.
So a couple weeks ago, I considered something that my daughter has shown interest in- gymnastics. And my girl is having the time of her life. Her squeals of joy fill the gym. The coach encourages her to run around the mat (woot), and there are no tape lines on the floor to stress either of us out.
My daughter’s crooked somersaults make my mama’s heart so very, very proud.
Who would’ve thought? Certainly not me. But God certainly did and IS thinking this over my daughter. His ways are higher than mine. I will trust Him as I put away the tiny pair of barely used ballet slippers, for my daughter is more important than my dream.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
~Isaiah 55: 8-9 NIV
Fellow mamas, I want to know:
Can you relate? Does your son or daughter differ from you in some way? How did/are you handling it?