McDonnell Place

Madalyn insisted on wearing her red "sparkly shoes" to school yet again today. No matter that her clothes were pink and green.

I feel like her shoes mark out the seasons of our lives. When she was a toddler she had red Mary Jane's that squeaked when she walked. She wanted to wear them and only them. All the time. Now she has the ruby slippers and it's same song, second verse. We punish her by withholding the shoes- do we need to take away your squeak shoes, we used to ask her, and it'd straighten her right up.

But it's precious to me. I will NEVER be able to part with these shoes, NEVER. No matter how worn, no matter how smelly. In some way, those shoes will keep her three-year-old self alive forever to me.

I was reading my friend's blog this morning and really appreciated these sentences she wrote about her two-year-old daughter:

Yesterday, she was playing with my long hair and then I saw that she reached up and pulled her beautiful little curls, trying to get them to come down by her ears like mommy's. It moved something in me... to fight for her against all the elements that tell a women she's not enough of whatever. In that moment, I realized the only way I could protect her would be by believing the same for myself. To live the difference for her. I cannot teach what I don't believe.

For some reason it made me think of these pictures below of Madalyn in the accessories SHE picked out that day, and about how she really has a strong sense of who she is right now, regardless of anyone else's opinion. She is constantly putting on shows, performing tricks, making up songs, and preaching.

Oh you heard me. PREACHING. And she can preach. She can make me cry, and not just because she's my child, but because she preaches with such passion and conviction- not because she thinks I will respond, it doesn't seem, but because the tomb was empty, glory!

She will launch into some long and spirited monologue on how some things she does might make God upset but He always loves her- that the tomb was empty- that He is sooooo wonderful and gives her sparkly shoes and the food she needs, and her Baby Ice Cream (stuffed dog.) Each word is drawn out and her expressions are half the sermon.

And we love our enemies. We don't love the things they do but we love them because Jesus wants us to love our enemies!

She asks daddy if she looks beautiful every morning and he is more than willing to rave. She blushes and starts walking very feminine when he does this. You can watch her respond to his esteeming words in that very moment. She starts swaying her hips and dragging pointed lingering toes behind her while he coos. She suppresses a smile and starts batting her eyelashes, cuts her eyes up to one corner. (I didn't know that battling eyelashes was a real thing- I thought it sort of developed through cartoons...) until I had Madalyn. She started working those eyes at 8 months old. And I really hope and pray that we not only preserve those ruby slippers, but that- together- Jesus, daddy, she, and I- we are able to preserve that confident Spirit in her, so that she knows she is a child of the King. A true princess. In the strongest sense of the Word.

Here are some pictures of her "tricks" which involve her striking a pose like Madonna. Okay not LIKE Madonna- Heavens no- but statuesque, rather:

I particularly like this last pose- I MEAN TRICK- with the twisted legs. Please note the seriousness in her face. This is very serious business. It takes work. It takes concentration. Takes FOCUS, people.