We are notoriously late. Friends tease me about it; seems it is my birthright to be fashionably late. This works for casual soirées and coffee dates after work...not so much for church, school or dance competitions. The competition was her goal all summer and now mere days from the start of school it was here, and we were behind schedule. So much so that I agreed to meet my family a short while later to be sure we could get Hannah registered in time for her first dance. In Sean's attempt to help me he grabbed my purse for me and took it with him. In Hannah's attempt to help me she had loaded lots of my usual items in said purse; including my car keys. Sean drove off with kids, and purse, in tow and off went my keys and my only way to get to them.
Now comes the question, do you turn around for me or head off for Hannah? We chose Hannah. I stand by the decision because it taught her that when push comes to shove in our lives, her needs matter enough to trump someone else's-even mine. That was blessing number one to come from this day filled to the tippy top with frustration.
I found the next blessing in an unexpected place. I found that even now, as a fully grown woman, sometimes the one person who can fix the problem is your mom. Ironic though, considering it was my role as a mom that I was grappling with. My mother came and picked me up after offering to drive me the hour to get to the games. I'm not sure what her plans were for the day as I think I was too wrapped up in my own world to ask, but she silently forfeited them to my need to make good on motherhood.
Blessing three happened when I made it to the dance field two brief sets before Hannah's fifth and final dance. I had hated myself for missing the first four with the bright red hate that only a mother who has let her children down can know. As we drove in, knowing I had just barely made it in time for that last dance was like salve on a burn.
Now for clarity's sake, Hannah was sure all this was her fault, as every 10 year old would be. I had told her otherwise on the phone during a botched encouragement speech, her dad had told her this as well but she would hear none of it. The weight of the day pressed on her and her dances showed it. My skilled dancer turned into a girl with the world on her shoulders, and that weight makes it very difficult to perform the Highland Fling. Competition is tough at Highland Games, and very little communication is offered on where you did well and where to improve. You never know your score, just the placement of the top four dancers-of which Hannah was not a part. This was her crushing blow. Numbers flew through the air as they called girls up for medals; '176'-Hannah's number-was never called.
She took it on the chin and just watched as medals were presented to girl after girl but I saw her shrink; more shrivel, really. It was then we headed for shade so the tears could flow. Hiding behind a judges tent she let herself fall apart. I apologized for the ridiculousness of the start of the day and told her I imagined that is what threw her off her dances, coupled with the nerves of her first ever competition. She agreed.
While I held her in that shade, blessing four was out of my mouth faster than I had the chance to think about it. I told Hannah I was proud of her, not for medals, but for trying. Proud of her because when the going gets tough so many of us, myself included on many occasions, give up trying. I told her that when you are nearing the end of being in labour with a baby, you want to give up because it is hard...but you must keep on trying. I told her that when you are out of money you can't give up, you have to keep on working to get your needs and the needs of those relying on you met....and I told her that when you feel like a failure as a mother because you missed most of your daughter's dance competition you have to keep on trying to be a good mom-the mom your kids deserve. I also told her when I was her age, I would have quit, and the fact that she didn't told me more about her than a trophy for dancing ever would have. I knew none of this would take the sting of defeat away, but it might ease it for her...and for me.
The blessings were rolling in hard and fast now; blessing five...Meghan looked up at her and said,' I'm proud of you Hannah...you're the best sister ever and a great dancer. You are a winner to me.' I was speechless. Blessing six, my brave girl got up on the stage for the massed fling and with tear stained cheeks danced her heart out for me, so I would get the chance to see her up there; and she nailed it. Now it was my cheeks that were tear stained.
The last blessing, was watching her eyes light up as her daddy hung a silver Celtic heart around her neck; her medal from him. Not for the best Fling, or Sword or Flora but for being the best Hannah she could be. For just being her and with the silent promise that that was effectively enough to be medal worthy in his eyes. One of the few opportunities in life when we are told we are enough and for that moment we believe it.
This was not the day I had expected when I woke up, but the important ones seldom are. The blessings cloaked in hurt and frustration had made their way to us all and when it was said and done I was madly in love and bloody well exhausted. Hannah, always try. You will not be successful every time, but you will never win if you never try. And see the blessings in the moments where you miss the mark...they always mean the most and last the longest.
<3 
