God gave me four beautiful girls. And he gave them to me one hundred percent innocent and pure.
I don’t know if they were a bank slate, a tabula rasa, or if their fate was written into their DNA. But I do know they were unblemished and they were as perfect as anything I have ever seen before or since.
My children, most notably two of them, are very excitable. They are passionate. They are all heart.
This is exhausting. Sometimes it feels like two little forces stronger than anything these four walls can sustain are swirling around, creating chaos as they go. This can be overwhelming. But it’s also a gift. Whenever joy is around, you know, so too is God.
And so while their enthusiasm may sometimes suck every ounce of patience out of me, it’s also something I work tirelessly to protect. Sometimes mainly from myself. It’s a gift to them from God and it’s a gift from God and from them to the world. This world is fueled and ignited by passion such as theirs. Nobody has a right to tame it out of frustration or exhaustion or cruelty or selfishness or practicality.
And I’m so happy they have this gift. But it also scares me because I know how fragile passionate hearts are. I know that those glorious highs can lead to serious falls if faced with cruel or harsh remarks. I know that this purity of spirit can’t always stand in the face of criticism. I know that in order for them to be able to allow themselves to experience these depths of joy, they need to trust that their hearts are safe. I know that if they don’t, they will close off.
Today triggered a lot of my fears about them. My fears that they will be broken. One of my middle two had multiple unkind words said to her by different people. One was about a hat she was really proud of. She said she shook it off. She said she was sad but that she moved on. But all I can picture is her at school, away from me, feeling sad and hurt and not really knowing why.
And then my other daughter had a narrative paper to write tonight. She spent the entire evening on the final draft. It has a humor that only a second grader could create. And it is hysterical. Honestly, I’ve never seen her so excited about any school project before. She was practically jumping up and down as she watched me read it. She wanted to bring it with her to bed so she could read it as she fell asleep. She’s been giggling and cartwheeling and her grin is so big I fear her face will start to hurt.
And all I can do is think “Please, teacher, do not say anything to crush her enthusiasm over this. Please be gentle.” And her teacher is amazing. She doesn’t have a harsh or cruel bone in her body, but when I send my little girl with her big heart into the world, I can’t help but want to clear every path for her so that her heart doesn’t smash and get broken.
But then as I sit here and I write, I realize that their hearts will get broken. The world will never be as gentle with them as I want it to be. And I can’t pave every road for them.
But then I try to remember that they will be okay. I try to remember that unbroken hearts can never grow to their full capacity. I remember that they are strong and that their passion won’t be tempered by an unkind remark here and there.
And I remember that I have a say in all of this too. I can nurture those amazing parts of them. I can love those parts that are pure and messy and raw. I can remind them that their enthusiasm and their passion is one of their greatest gifts. And I can be the gentle place they can land, the person who will always see the beauty in both them and their creations.
I always knew motherhood would be hard. I never realized that one of the hardest parts would be facing the fear that comes from letting your children into a world that is so far from the place you want it to be.
But that’s the role we can play – we can make the world kinder. We can make it more into the place we want for our children. We can be what we want to see. And we can teach our children to do the same. Sensitive people give birth to sensitive people. This is good – it allows one generation to help guide the next through the very struggles they faced.
But none of that will stop me from daily making the plea, “Lord, please protect their hearts. Please protect their spirits. Please don’t let them be broken.”
I think maybe that’s the mama’s prayer we all hold deep in our hearts.