Jun. 1, 2007 - Let's Go Fly A Kite
On the last windy day we had I took the kids to the ballfield to fly their kites. Isaac has a Spiderman kite that he had up there pretty high. He would run all around the outfield, chubby hands gripping tightly onto the string, yelling with joy for all to hear. Faith has a Diego kite. She would get hers going, but then she would run in circles and the kite would be against the wind and it would crash to the ground. Neither one of them stood still and watched the kite soar. They were too excited to stand still. Angel has a Dora kite. She patiently and lovingly put it together. She sat on the ground and wound out just enough string that her kite was about two feet above her head. She had to stay in motion to keep it in the air because no wind could get under it. She was getting frustrated and angry that her kite wouldn't fly, but at the same time she was too afraid to let it go.
I watched her for a few minutes. I could see that she was afraid of losing her kite. She picked it out and bought it herself. She took time putting it together. She remembered that last year Tony's kite string broke and his kite took off on its own. I tried to explain that his kite string was old and broke easily, but hers was new. Her string wouldn't break like that. She was afraid the wind would tear the string from her hands. I tried to show her how to hold it securely. She refused to let her kite sour for fear of losing it. She pulled in the two feet of string and took it apart. She tucked it safely in the stroller and sat on the ground crying for fear that Isaac and Faith would lose their kites. I held her, reassuring her that it would most likely be okay, and even if they did lose a kite we could go to the store and get another. It only cost $1.50. I tried to soothe her, but was struck with how similar her plight was with my own.
I spent nine months preparing for her to be born. Seven hours in labor. Months of bouncing her all night long when she was colicky. Endless hours nursing her. Tears of joy when she said Mama. Tears of frustration when she wouldn't sleep- ever. Tears of pain when she hurt. Hours of fear when she was in the hospital. At various times I dried her tears and blood after falls. Cared for her when she was sick. Paced the floor singing to her when she couldn't sleep. Prayed feverently for her when she had nightmares. I tried to be reassuring when she was first hurt by another child and had to encourage her to be kind regardless, even though I really wanted to spank the little bugger myself for the way he treated her. My heart overflowed with pride when she decided to not play a soccer game becase she forgot her pads and at the same time broke because I let her down by tring to convince her to play anyway, breaking the rules. I poured everything I had into her for the past seven years. I now how it feels to want to hold on so tightly, keep her close, keep her safe.
But at the same time, I need to give her string, let her go, encourage her to test the wind and soar to where God has for her. Every centimeter of string costs me dearly. A small peice of my heart is let out too. My job is not to hold her so close, but to teach her to soar. It is scary. What if she gets lost along the way? Temptation, sorrow, heartbreak, injury, sickness, death. Sooner or later she will face them all. What if the string that ties us together breaks? She gets married, moves away. Do I hold her close, only giving her the briefest taste of freedom, pulling her back when the wind tugs in the slightest? How much will it cost to let go, to allow God to control her as the wind controls the kites we are watching? To give her all the string she needs as she grows, and finally, one day to let the last bit out and watch as she soars away, out of my hands and into the future God has planned for her?
I sat on the ground holding her closely. For right now, I can hold her close. I dried her tears. I told her that I know how hard it is to let go. We gathered up the kites and kids. We walked home hand in hand, and my heart was full. Full of joy that she is still mine to hold close. Full of apperenshion for the time to let her go creeps closer everyday. Full of thankfulness that there was someone who held me close, and when the time came, let me go so I could be here right now, right where God wants me, holding the hand of my own daughter. Full of hope that I can be that strong when the time comes. Full of joy that I do not hold the string alone, God's hand guides mine, letting out just enough string, pulling her closer when I need to, standing back and smiling with me as we watch her fly higher, filling my heart with peace.
Comments
Jun. 21, 2007 - Hi
Posted by momofsix
It is so hard for children to walk through life some times. They get so upset sometimes. I am glad that you were able to comfort her.
