September 17, 2012

Mothers, Daughters and the Grace to Be

The email from her teacher came this morning telling us that she didn't do her Math homework.  She says she did it.  She just didn't do the other Math homework before the one in question.  She thinks her teacher probably made a mistake.

She learned from a friend late last night, right before bed, that she has a Science test today, but she didn't stay up late going over her notes to cram for the test, nor did she wake up early to study, just in case her friend was right.  She thinks they probably have the date wrong.

She has a Math test tomorrow, but she hasn't started preparing for it and she didn't look over any of the problems this weekend.  Instead, she took it easy, slept in late, went to dinner with friends, cheered wildly at her high school's football game, painted her nails a lovely, glowing shade of red and spent long, creative hours on Pinterest organizing boards for her future dream wedding in Italy and her stylish, on-trend virtual wardrobe.

And I want to scream and pull my hair out.

This girl God has given us is an absolute mystery to me.  I am crazy-wild about her and blessed to be her momma, but for the life of me, I cannot wrap my head around how her sweet little head works.  She's more creative than I have any idea.  She's dreamy and imaginative, easy-going and carefree.  There's very little drama with this girl, which I am immensely grateful for, but how to motivate her, how to push her to be all that she can possibly be?  

I struggle...

Oh, how I struggle.

I dropped her off at school early this morning so she could meet with her Math teacher.  She got out of the car, all smiles and sunshine with beautiful nails, and wished me a wonderful day.  "Bye Momma!  Have a good day!  I love you!" she called out in her sweet, sing-songy way, even after learning she's been grounded for the week due to the previously mentioned misses and a few others I didn't mention.

God love her.

I drive away from the school shaking my head.  Half laughing.  Half frustrated.  She's precious and I love her more than words could ever express, but my goodness... 

What's a mother to do?

I let out a deep sigh and say a prayer...  "Jesus, she's yours.  Once again, I release her to you.  Help me give her the freedom to fail and fall and make her own choices and feel the weight of them.  Help me give her the grace to be and the room to become all you intend her to be."

My sweet girl... 
this post was published with her permission and blessing.


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