Avonlea is one of those children who can't be rushed.
You can try to rush her, but it really doesn't do any good at all.
I do everything fast.
You can imagine the combo we make.
She was a slow, dreamy little girl. Her eyes often looked right through me. This drove me crazy.
One morning when she was a wisp of a waif of four we were making her bed together. She pulled the comforter up s.l.o.w.l.y. forgetting that the sheet existed. I stood on the other side of the bed tapping my foot in impatience.
Finally I broke, "Avonlea! What are you doing? Are you stupid? The sheet goes first!"
Her response took my breath away.
She looked up at me with wonder in her big brown eyes and said, "I'm not stupid mommy, Jesus loves me. I know I'm not stupid because Jesus died for me."
She knew her worth wasn't in how well she made her bed, her worth was in what Jesus did for her, how He saw her.
Years pass, and I grow to know this daughter like I know my self. She points me to Heaven always. She makes me laugh. She makes me groan.
She turns 13 and she makes me think.
Last week she was signed up to play her harp at a recital combining the students of four different teachers. Her music was memorized, she was ready to go. It was a packed house. She climbed the stairs to the stage and my heart swelled with pride. And then she got that dreamy look in her eyes. She looked at her harp like she'd never seen it before. Minutes ticked by mercilessly. Finally, I managed to get her book to her and she sat down and played her song.
Afterward, I tried to console. "Avonlea, you know Daddy and I are proud of you no matter how badly you mess up."
Again, the wonder in the brown eyes, "Of course you are! It doesn't matter at all."
Again, she leaves me speechless, barely breathing. She gets it. She gets it better than I do, if truth be told. Her performance on the harp matters not one iota, her worth is in Christ, nothing can change that.
So she turns 13 and we go to the beach. My friend Natalie and I whisk our daughters away for a weekend of shopping and praying and tea and walking. Avonlea is into birds big time right now and identifies pretty much everything, whether it's really flying, or merely painted on china. So as we head down to the beach she grabs food to feed the seagulls. She stands alone (none of us wanted to get pooped on) with a piece of cracker in her upraised hand.
And as I stood there I thought; this is her life picture. Pointing upward, doing it her way, in her timing. Not caring whether she's alone or surrounded by people, eyes fixed heavenwards, patiently.
My words fall short when I try to describe how God has used this dreamy child in my rushed life.
I am so thankful for my daughter.