suubi

suubi means hope. and this picture of my driveway means hope. something beautiful where you thought something beautiful wouldn't be. flowers through cement. life breaking through hard dry ground. the reminder that beauty doesn't need much- only a small crack in the concrete, a spot of dirt, a drop of water, a moment of sun. that is the promise.

zoe is almost 17. it's hard to swallow. it's not just her years, it's her birthday. and what that means. it means planning a party and who to invite and who will come. it means gifts that aren't age appropriate. it means celebrating this girl who i love. so. much. while staring in the face where we are and where we are not.

today i was in game (a target-esque store- african style). after buying cat food, i wander through the toy section to see if there was anything reasonable that i could find for zoe. it was one of those heart squeezing moments. i was in the aisle of pink plastic things and games that say "for ages 4+" and i knew that i could get her any of it and she would be thrilled. i remember watching a video clip from 'america's funniest home videos' of a kid opening their birthday gift and flinging the present off of the hanger in the unwrapping and exclaiming with pure joy "a hanger! you got me a hanger!" as if it were the greatest thing ever. it could have been zoe. she's a great gift receiver. but there i was in the pre-school toy section trying to imagine what a 17 year old girl "should" get for her birthday.

when i was 17 i had a boyfriend, graduated from high school and started college. i had a job and drove a car. i could get myself up and dressed and fed and take care of younger siblings. i wanted things like clothes and music and travel and independence. this is not about me. her birthday is not about me.  except that it kind of is, because it is the celebration of the day that i birthed her. her tiny little 5# body with a broken wing. the beginning of something beautiful that at times has felt like it's had to push through a lot of concrete.

mike found me standing among the pink mini brooms and princess shoes sized for a 4 year old. we had just come from a school meeting with the special ed coordinator where we went over her homeschool curriculum focusing not on academics but on life skills. on ways to support her independence. but these are the things which are most terrifying for her. all things related to growing up.

it would be so easy to leave her here. in her world of disney characters with cartoon eyes and perma-expressions. she would be happy to live in a place where things are painted on clear, black and white, not the confusion of subtle reality. not the nuances of the face and the tones of the voice and the complexity that each of us holds able to be good and bad, kind and mean. it would be so easy to fill the cart with LPS sticker books and barbie dolls and tell myself that it's her birthday after all.

mike knew all this because we live it together and we have our moments as we slide back and forth trying to find that balance that provides her with safety and challenge- acceptance and encouragement, trying to hold that tension of the opposites.

"i know," he smiled, "but she has so many toys."
"so what do we do?" i said back. "what do we get for a 17 year old who still likes to watch max and ruby? whose wishlist is filled with plush toys characters?"
"she wants the hunger games books, that's what we can get her." he said.
"and some of those indian print pants." i said remembering the hanger story.

it's a slow process, growing up. i feel like i'm still doing it. so for zoe, i know it will be long with many steps backwards among the forward ones. but we will walk it with her- holding her hand until she's ready to let go. we will not leave her in arrested development. we will watch for the flowers to bloom on their own- pushing through the concrete. beauty instead of ashes. and there is the hope.

Isaiah 61:3 to provide for those who grieve in Zion-- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.