Unrealized

There were lots of them this morning -
Shuffling or bobbing,
Sleepy or excited,
A jumbled mass
entering the building -
Dressed in solid colored tops
And khakis or blue jeans . . .

But I only saw one of them.

She was walking along,
Her head bent
And her hair bouncing,
She clutched a lunch bag
And seemed to be thinking of something
Very serious -
It seems she always is.

I told her she was looking
Very monochrome this morning.
She had chosen all black
And said, "I know -
Black is my lucky color,"
Before she told me
Of letting her teacher win
A game of Connect Four.

At the edge of the school,
I bent down for hugs and sugars
And asked her if she wanted me
To walk her to the door.
"No, I can do it," she said.
Normally I walk her all the way.
It was a small thing, but I felt a little pain
At her tiny taste of independence.

Not without faults, that little girl,
But still so special, so wonderful . . .
And I wondered as she walked into school,
Was I kind enough to her this morning?
Encouraging enough last night?
Interested enough
In her animated stories?
Did I help her feel
Important?

I fail her too often.

And I wonder
Why can't I see her
special and wonderful ways
As gifts,
Not burdens?

Her sweet clumsiness,
her thoughtful slowness,
her shy mumble . . .

But . . . I fail her.
When I should drink her in
Appreciate the wonder of who she is,
I take her for granted
I become frustrated
I abuse her precious heart
And I am ashamed

She was disappointed this week
Someone broke a promies to her
And as I told her
the news,
She didn't scoff or pout,
She didn't cry,
She didn't even protest.
She bent her head
crooked it to the side,
and her look was sad.
At last she looked up
she said,
"That's ok. I forgive them."

Not without faults
But also not without grace
I prayed for her
As she walked into school
this morning
And I prayed
for myself . . .