August 12, 2015
(If we live with an open and grateful attitude, every
day will bring a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned 70.)
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| A smile on the outside reflects a smile inside as well. |
I was not around for our oldest daughter’s birth, but my
husband was. I first met her when she was 8 ½ and I was dating her father. As
the relationship between us grew and we had a new baby daughter Lauren, David
told me that he wanted his other daughter, Jennifer, to come live with us when she turned 13 or
14. She was living with her mother in Florida. “No!” I said.
“I want her to come live with us right now.” As an educator,
I was aware of the difference a few years could make. I knew the transition
back to Maryland with a new stepmother and half-sister would be difficult at
any age but I was sure it would be most difficult later. At that time, I would
rather cope with a 9-year-old little girl than a 14-year-old teenager.
So, within a year, I became a mother to two girls— an infant
and a 9-year-old. Transitions are difficult for everyone and this one was rough
for me. In a relatively short time, I went from a single, carefree woman to a
mother with two children with very different needs and demands—and a husband
who worked nights. I had to shake myself up and rearrange what had once been
self-centered priorities.
This transition was difficult too for Jennifer as a young
child who came from one rather unstructured environment to one that had
bedtimes, rules and family responsibilities. Jennifer was a beautiful little
girl with a mind of her own. On her first day in her new school here as a fifth
grader, she stood at the bus stop with the other children, stamped her foot
horse-style and neighed. She also informed those around her that she was an
atheist. Fearful that peer problems as a newcomer atheist horse might make her
transition especially challenging, I shared my concern with her. However, she
responded, “I’d rather be a horse and have no friends than have lots of friends
but can’t be a horse.” Powerful words for a young child. And a reminder to me
of the importance of being true to yourself.
After one especially difficult night after dinner when child
play turned into an attack, I did something that was totally unpremeditated but
was appropriate at that moment—I slapped her once on her bottom and sent her to
her room. After an hour passed, I went to her room, hugged her, explained why
her behavior had upset me, said I was sorry, and then talked about family
relationships. After that conversation, she stopped calling her father by his first
name and began calling him Dad. And I became Mom. That language change meant so
much to both David and me. Gradually, with some structure and love, she began
to feel more secure and confident. Several years later when she became a
teenager, she would ask us to change what we called her.
Jennifer was not a good student, although she is way above
average intelligence. Often, she chose to read a book rather than do her
homework. As a parent and teacher, this was frustrating for me—and a losing
battle. Summers Jennifer went to Farm and Wilderness Camp in Vermont, did an
outdoor overnight solo, was selected for a canoe trip to Canada, and came home with
a mohawk and a new name—FL—which she got almost everyone to call her. Away from
home, her eight-week camp experience (over several years) affirmed her
strengths and individuality and helped her discover who she is.
Although I did not labor in birth with my oldest daughter, I
labored in love as she grew and she is worth it.
Family isn't always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are; the ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what.”
My
gift today is our oldest daughter’s birthday.
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