BOWLING FOR TENDERNESS

I have a daughter who will be 13 in January.

I can barely comprehend that statement.

I remember the moment I saw her face. We were in the playland of McDonald's and my husband and I had just driven the longest 20 miles of my life. It was familiar. I had seen pictures of the kids and I had even eaten at that McDonald's before--in 1994 on my way to work with in Mexico with orphans. But the feeling was new to me. Intense and instantaneous. Even with her Dad it was a gradual, building kind of love.

The sight of her light brown hair and eyes the color of Godiva sent a shiver through my body. Love flooded my chest. She had an impish smile and a deep sadness in her eyes. I knew there was a sparkle hidden deep. I knew she was mine.

I have seen that sparkle many times over the last four years. Every time we go to a pumpkin patch and she looks for the biggest pumpkin. Flipping rocks at the ocean and searching for creatures. The night she met her baby sister. Standing in line at the Hollywood Hotel Tower of Terror with her Dad knowing she would be in the front row. Meeting Emmylou. She has life in her eyes again.

I wish I could say I always love the sparkle. Sometimes it is accompanied by great mischief and irritated siblings. I get frustrated by her lack of control and tendency to go over the edge. I forget that she is 12 and only beginning to know herself.

We have a deep and often terrifying relationship. I have failed her with my impatience and anger. I am usually quick to repent but I hate myself for hurting her. I want to be enough for her. To bring healing and help her forget her life before. I'm finally realizing how unfair that it. For both of us. She will never forget--and neither will I. We are both wounded by the events that got us here. And yet, in her I see God's redemption so clearly I almost believe it for myself.

Last night we hung out with new friends and bowled. I watched her teenaged angst turn to sparkle as she forgot herself and rolled the ball. She is so devastatingly beautiful. At age 12 I had a bad perm, new glasses and a shaker knit sweater in teal green. She is light.

She is also clumsy and silly and managed to get a gutter ball while using bumpers. On the next lane. But she was so sweet last night. So tender. I forgave myself for a few frames and forgot all the work, all the prayers, all the investment of love at first sight. She sat on my lap and my chest was flooded again.