She climbed in the car after school looking like she often does:
Tired, victorious, brave.
Middle school can take it out of you.
She seemed a little quiet at first, and I wondered if she had eaten all of her lunch like I had instructed her to do, or if she had done like she often does, and skipped half of it to just go play soccer.
It didn’t take long, though, for her to open up.
I’ve learned, with 13 year olds, it’s best to let them decide when (or if) to talk after school.
I usually let her take the lead after my, “Hi, Sweetie. How was your day” is done.
“There was a fight today,” she said, adjusting her things. Her eyes were squinting slightly.
“Oh yeah? Who was fighting?”
“Some boys in the boy’s bathroom. A lot of kids were talking about hearing that there was one, and they were all gathered around trying to see, when one of the boys walked out of the bathroom with bleeding scratches on his face.”
Before I had a chance to ask more about it, she continued.
“As soon as I saw him, I went and told the yard duty teacher what was happening, because no one else was even doing anything.”
“That’s good. That’s exactly what you should have done,” I told her, and then she confessed, “After the boys got taken to the office, and the other kids started to walk away, a few kids were calling me a ‘snitch’ because of it.”
I took a breath, considering what to say.
I started, first, with how proud I was of her for risking her own reputation to tell an adult, and get help.
I told her that is exactly what she should have done,
and that often in life we will witness other people being bullied, or abused in some way, and we will need to speak up because they may not be able to speak up for themselves for some reason.
I told her how we all hold a responsibility to be a voice for others if they need one.
As I drove on, this led to us talking about how often abused women stay with their abusers out of fear and isolation, and how, often, no one helps them, even though they witness the bruises and black eyes.
So often, people choose to say nothing because they’re scared, too, or simply not sure what to say.
I told her that I hope so much that I have raised her and her sisters to always be able to recognize, and stand up for what is right.
I said it while holding in my heart the clear knowledge of the world that they will soon be released into.
I can see them in the future fighting battles they thought were already long won.
I can see the enemies, and the challenges.
I said it knowing there are so many dragons to be slain,
but I am raising dragon slayers.
I can remember mentioning to a friend once how sad I was that my children had to live in a world where certain evils existed.
Why did they have to be the ones to face them?
Why hadn’t the world progressed into something better than it had been?
Why did they have to survive so many times that were unprecedented?
My friend, then, impressed upon me a thing I have come to believe and remind myself of often:
Each of us is born into our specific time for a purpose –
The Abraham Lincoln’s, The MLKs, The Harriet Tubmans – all the others we have come to view as greats were all born into their specific eras, and answered a voice that called only to them at the time.
Destiny is what calls us onward.
There are things in each of my girls that are hidden to most everyone else;
But, I see them. I know them.
I know the skills, thoughts, and voices they are shaping both in public, and in secret;
In the times when no one is looking at all,
and when everyone is watching.
As I prepare to one day set them free into this often dark world,
I can do so knowing that I have packed their knapsacks with tools, words, education, prayers, and even a few snacks, and, because of that,
I can trust that they are well-prepared for any battle.
They did not come to these dark days by chance.
They are here because they were called into them.
“For such a time as this.”
I drove, and I nodded.
My eyes welled with tears as I pictured her walking forward for help when no one else around her was moving.
She saw a need, and she acted on it, not considering the personal cost:
The sign of all true heroes.
I pictured the back of her that I know so well:
soccer shorts, a plain t-shirt, hair in her standard two braided pigtails.
Any person looking would just see an average girl like any other, based on appearance alone,
but they would be woefully underestimating;
And that’s OK.
We shake underestimation off a lot in a house full of so many females.
We just smile, waiting for the moment doubting faces turn astonished.
Being underestimated, mocked, and teased happens to all the greats at some point,
but when you mix those things with bravery, and true character, unbreakable power is what is formed.
It’s true.
Nothing can shake it.
“I didn’t care that they teased me,” she said, interrupting my proud, and thought-filled silence.
The beautiful thing is that I already knew she didn’t.
She simply faced a dragon she was always born to face,
and rose to the challenge.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
