We sat in the stands watching, unable to do anything at all
as she was jammed into the banked rails and tossed onto the floor like a rag
doll. Whatever possessed her to take this path as part of her life story, to put herself into these kinds
of situations? Over and over we watched as she was flung far and wide. Every
instinct in me wanted to say, “Stop! Don’t do this to yourself! This is fun?” And I watched his
face as his “little one” was repeatedly squeezed, jammed, flung and tossed, and
he too could do nothing but watch.
But then we felt the exhilaration as she broke from the pack and
skated with such skill and speed! And such freedom!
Later her eyes sparkled as
her conversation was salted and peppered with such terms as blocked, jammed, falling
smart, bout, and calling off the jam (I particularly liked that one).
I was reflecting on it all again this morning, and it dawned
on me…
That’s what mothering is all about. There comes a time in a mother and child’s
relationship where mom has to sit on the sidelines and let that the child strike
out on his own. He may get himself
knocked around, or she may find herself on the floor, with a sore knee and a
bruised bum, but then, as that mother watches, she sees the joy on his face as
he makes his own music, creates his own work of art, or plays in a roller derby
bout. And she will feel her own face smile with joy at one of her best creative acts.
I love you kids: Mike, Bart, Joe, Robin and Rebecca (Annie Nigma).
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