We moved here in August of last year. Into temporary housing. Our kids are in a temporary school. Pretty much everything about our lives right now is temporary.
We haven't put down roots. We haven't become "joiners." We don't "get involved" because we've known since day one there was a chance we'd move to a different part of town and this part, the here and now, would fade into the distance like the mountains on a foggy day.
Our trip home reminded me of this. Reminded me that I liked being a part of something. Years ago, I was part of the scrapbooking world. It was a strong, solid community made up of beautiful, talented women. I was a part of CYT, a community in every sense of the word, with its own culture, its own language, its own pulse.
And being here I've floundered without those things, I think.
So when we decided to move to Loveland, in my mind something shifted. Finally, a place. A community. I would join. My kids would join. We would root ourselves firmly in the firmament of this town. We signed Ethan up for baseball and Adam and Sophia auditioned for a local production of "The Sound of Music."
Long story short, after an audition and a call-back, Adam got a part. After an audition and TWO call-backs, Sophia didn't.
It wasn't just that I was reliving my own disappointment, remembering the times I'd auditioned and not been cast, it's that this was supposed to be Sophia's thing. It was supposed to occupy her over the summer with something fun and excellent and a way for her to make new friends before going to a new school in the fall.
And it didn't happen.
It was raining. Droplets of disappointment fell on us last night as we processed it...the whole "telling your kid someone didn't think they were good enough" thing.
It's tempting sometimes to revert back to my childish ways and lash out, claiming that "they don't know what they missed out on" and "you don't need them anyway..." but I'm the parent now. And I knew that wasn't going to fly.
Because when it rains, there's a beautiful opportunity for something to grow.
In this case, what needed to grow was Sophia.
I told her about a time when I didn't get a part I'd tried out for. I hadn't had all the theatrical experiences in my youth, so not getting the part as a teenager came as a devastating blow. I handled it 100 percent the wrong way. I am still embarrassed about it. Everything seems so much worse when you're a hormonal teenager.
Then I said, "So, what does this make you want to do? Do you want to quit and never audition for anything again?"
And she said, "No, it makes me want to find out what I did wrong so I can get better for the next time."
And in that moment, I saw the rain, pouring out on her, growing her into a young lady--able to handle disapointment with grace, a grace I never possessed at her age.
So I asked her, "You know Daddy did this show to spend time with you. What do you think he should do? He could tell them he can't do it..."
She interrupted me and said "I want him to do it. He should still get to be in the show."
Most days I feel like a pretty crappy mom.
I'm short-tempered, pre-occupied, self-involved...
And in that moment, God showed me that my kids really are in the palm of HIS hand...in spite of me.
I figured we had a choice... we could let the rain sweep us downstream, taking with it our newly planted roots--and don't get me wrong--a part of me, just wanted to retreat, to keep her from feeling that disapointment ever again, in spite of this gift I know God's given her to perform.
But she showed me...it's in the midst of the downpour that we take our sustinence, that we drink in the strength that builds our character. That we become the people who can't only rely on our own strength, but who desperately need to tap in to something bigger than us.
I sometimes don't give my kids enough credit...but last night, during our own personal storm, I discovered more about Sophia's character than I ever would have if she'd gotten that part.
We decided to see if there's any way for her to get involved in Daddy's show... if there's any way for her to serve, to learn and to support what in our minds should've been hers.
Somedays, you just have to drink in the rain...
