Six Year Old Wisdom

In lieu of Saturday morning cartoons we are watching Freaky Eaters.  The "lucky contestant" is addicted to cheesy potatoes (drooling) and as a part of her intervention, they roll in mounds of potatoes via forklift.  She is asked to pour industrial sized bags of scrumptious cheddar cheese on top of bushels of potatoes (drooling profusely) as she cries and cries at the eye-opening experience. Lovely's only response is "I just want to climb to the top of that mountain of goodness."  That's my girl!

That has absolutely nothing to do with this blog post but I thought it was hilarious!

Rewind 10 minutes and we are sitting in the floor hand in hand and she tells me that she doesn't want to climb trees anymore. Now this little girl is like flesh with dirt on.  She loves climbing trees and picking blisters off her hands. She has an affinity for all things gruff, seriously.  Right now she is playing with a football, practicing her grunts of intimidation.  But after falling yesterday she is afraid of getting hurt, and for good reason.  That experience kind of shook us all up.

Isn't that how it works?  We try to follow our heart and we get hurt. We might try again and inevitably get hurt, again.  Somewhere along the way we make a resolve to just stop trying. We live life on auto pilot, doing the necessities but never really enjoying it. We put up defenses, lock the heart away and never allow ourselves to be heard or seen.  We don't do the things we love or are gifted at.  For adults, maybe the pain isn't from falling out of a tree but maybe it's rejection. Maybe it's critism.  Maybe it's not fitting into presupposed categories of normality. Maybe it's not getting too involved with people because they'll take advantage, or they'll not love you in return.  Whatever "it" is, it leads to a lonely, small, unfulfilled life.

I could have told my little Lovely that she better stay out of those trees, that she learned a lesson and that I'd tear her tail up if I ever, ever saw her in another tree again.  Besides she's a girl, Barbies are safer.  But that's not who I want to be and that's not who I'll raise my daughter to be. 

I want her to follow her heart, to keep trying even if she falls.  I want her to tackle the obstacles she'll face in life with vigor, learning as she goes.  I want her to experience all this life has to offer, the triumphs, the pain, the feeling of accomplishment and sometimes the agony of defeat.  I want her to face life and not run from it. To hold her head high but keep both hands on whatever limb she finds herself on.

But above all I want her to keep climbing..