I weep in the shower after our conversation. I weep and pray and do all I can to not lean into the helplessness that is, at times, motherhood.
She says she’s tempted not to raise her hand in class.
She says it’s because she feels small there.
She says sometimes she’s embarrassed to be smart.
She says she just wants to be like everyone else, of average intelligence and boasting a home theatre in the basement.
It’s hard to be the child of parents who value character over competition.
Being less than who you are will kill your soul, I whisper to my extraordinary daughter. Her face is blurry through my tears.
We’re wasteful, we women. We waste years of our lives pursuing the mediocrity that comes with social integration. We throw away the best pieces of our selves as we wrestle the competing demons of independence and invisibility. We desire to be both fully seen and fully same. We discard ourselves in our disinclination toward vulnerability.
We toss our very best selves to the wind, as spores on the breeze, scattering and dispersing our beauty, our creativity, our inherent worth – our power. It’s a disappearance of holiness, a displacement of God.
It is a diaspora of self.
I cannot bear to watch as it comes to dissolve my daughter; I will not look away in defeat.
Dearest Father, sustainer of women, give me wisdom to guide my daughter – our daughter, yours and mine – toward her true and vibrant self. Whisper to her, as I have done, that she was created for a purpose, that grandeur is intrinsic in her soul, that her spiritual colors are vivid and God-chosen.
Tell her that smallness is not for her, that she was made for largeness, larger even than the universe around her – that she possesses not the seed of self, but is rather a majestic specimen of living divinity, fully formed and sturdy, always was.
Encourage her through your Spirit to hold to her self as she holds to the iron rod. Give her ears to hear what is ennobling and enlarging; bless her with deafness to what will destroy her. Make her voice as a trumpet for goodness.
Place the pavilion of your extravagant love over her head; let not the shame of the world rain upon her.
Teach her that you are the only thing more powerful than herself. Extend to her your strength, as she comes to trust her own.
Dearest Father, respecter of women, as our exceptional daughter learns of the great I Am, instruct her in her own greatness – that she herself Is.
*Image from wolfgangphoto