I met myself.

Strolling down the bread aisle of the grocery store, I catch a glimpse of her. I would recognize those golden brown ringlets and blue [soon to be green] eyes and uneven dimples anywhere. I feel myself gasp ever so quietly, then quickly step back around the corner I just turned so she doesn't see me. I watch her from a distance buckled in to the front of her mama's buggy, because I know her.

I know that when she's just a toddler, she'll wait for her Daddy to come home every day for lunch so he can read her a book. And I know as a small child she'll spend every weekend in a minivan, riding 3 hours to Clarksville to visit her grandparents where she'll be treated like a princess because her Grandaddy is captivated by her. I know her Daddy will teach her country songs and her Mommy will teach her to do puzzles and artwork, and she won't even get in trouble when she decides to try it on the wall. I know her favorite thing to do with her sister who is only one year behind her will be to put her head on her shoulder and sing to her until she falls asleep like she's a baby.

I know that when she goes to school finally, she'll cry because she's scared and she misses her Mommy. I know when her parents tell her they are going to have a 4th child, she will cry and be furious even though she doesn't know that it will be another sister who will grow up to be one of her 4 best friends/siblings.

I know that with 5th grade comes glasses, and 6th grade brings braces. I know she'll feel overweight and out of style and like she's got nothing to offer the world. But I know she'll get contacts eventually, and the braces come off, and she'll make her own style and learn to love herself which will make others love her too.

I know she'll get to high school eventually where she'll meet mean girls and heartless boys. She'll be challenged with friendship and young love and all the fun and heartache that comes with both. And she'll break hearts too, but mostly of her friends. I know she'll be smart but she'll struggle to be humble about it. I know during her years of high school she will attend 5+ funerals for kids her age and it will change her. I know her weakness will be for needy people and she'll have a tendency to want to fix everyone, but eventually she'll learn she can't.

I know that when she's in college she will make some terrible decisions that will change who she is. And she'll make some great ones that will also change her. I know she'll fall in love, real love, and she'll learn what it feels like to be heartbroken. I know she'll eventually meet a Savior who rocks her world and makes her new.

And suddenly I have an overwhelming desire to tell her, to warn her, of the dangers that lie ahead. Oh, the tears I could save her and the sleepless nights I could omit. And just as I'm about to run to her and spill my guts, I pause. If she doesn't feel insignificant, she'll never learn what it means to value herself. If she never loses, she won't know what it's like to have. If she never makes a mistake, she won't learn what grace is. If she never cries, she won't learn what it's like to stop. If she is never betrayed, she won't know forgiveness. And I decide these things are too important for her to miss. Too vital to the person she will become.

So instead of telling her of the heartache and pain and good times and joy she's going to encounter in her life, I walk to her and lean in close and I tell her "Honey, sometimes, you will have the whole world at your finger tips and you'll feel like anything is possible. Other times, you will have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders and you'll feel like you can't go another step. Through it all, sweetie, take heart. You'll make it through it and at 24, you're still going strong." Then I resist the urge to boing a perfect curl, because I know it makes her cry for strangers to touch her hair and that is all I am to her, a stranger. And I walk away, down another aisle to another day. And she goes on to learn what I already know.

[post prompted by this blogger.]