It has happened to me again, one of those defining moments as a mother, when you look at your child and realize there is something quite extraordinary about her you had little to do with and didn’t know it lay under the surface waiting to burst out like the buds of spring. This time I was standing in the choir at the funeral of a dear friend. I was watching the director and knew it was important I watch closely – there was something in her very presence that commanded I trust her to lead us through unfamiliar music and the difficult task of singing as we mourned. Slowly, I realized this person before me was my very own daughter and for the first time I experienced her completely as an individual, complete within herself, and no longer an extension of me.

I have five children, all of which have given me these moments of realization but my
second has surprised me in numerous ways throughout her life. There was her impish nature as an infant; sleep seemed to be her enemy. It wasn’t until she was three that I realized it was her curiosity that drove her constant movement and need to discover, always on the move to find something to learn.

I have often described how her behavior changed when she learned to read. She caught the concept so fast we were stunned by her ability. She developed a need for the written word whether it was a book, cereal box or scrap of paper to decipher. Her mind had finally found a way to move fast enough without using her legs to propel it. She found enough stimuli in the day to use up energy and let herself shut down at night. A book within her reach became the way to motivate her. She knew, if x was completed a book was waiting. Spelling was a game, what phonetic rule could cause her to pause and think? There I sat wondering, where had this come from? Her father and I have a love for reading but this innate ability to grasp phonetics was beyond us and not something you can teach. It was just there, within her.

Later, quite by accident, I began to see her musical talent. I wanted my children to learn the piano, which had more to do with what I had longed for as a child than any interest they had shown. And so the two oldest began piano lessons. As I sat by these two through the early days of practice, I could see how different their approach to learning was. The older one found the mechanics of playing fun. She liked thinking through what she needed to do to put a song together. From, the beginning it was more about the expression of music than the fundamentals for Resa. Being able to express herself through certain sounds gave her mind an outlet for her thoughts Still, seeing the talent developing in her, it wasn’t until Jr High that I discovered her voice. Her mother, who sat with her each week at church, didn’t realize what a beautiful voice she had.

She and her sister were involved in an area music competition for band and chorus. I didn’t know this was something parents attended until the morning they had to leave at 7:00 AM and my husband was getting information from them about times and places, etc. He attended the morning performances, mostly instrumental, drove the thirty miles home at lunch and insisted that I return with him. Still today, I wonder where the resistance came from. I had always been intent on attending everything they were in, why this particular day did it seem unnecessary? It turned out to be one of the times I truly appreciated my husband’s strong personality. As I sat in a stuffy, crowed class room my daughter brought me to tears with her song. It was a ballad that wasn’t familiar to me; I couldn’t even tell you the title of it today. But I came to know, there lay within this girl a talent that came from her very being, all her own, and one that I would never ignore again. It was a moment when I realized this was about her and doing whatever it took to help her develop this precious gift God had given her. There was a path before her that I could help her find, give her supplies for the journey, push her along; but eventually it would become her own energy and maturity that would propel her and I would be left behind.

Several months ago, a friend shared a picture from her daughter’s wedding with me. It was taken over the shoulder of the presiding priest and captured her daughter’s face as the focal point. In the background, slightly fuzzy was her mother. My friend commented how she thought this picture captured the natural transition in a child’s life, when the mother leaves the forefront and the child becomes the focal point. I remembered this comment as I stood in the choir watching my beautiful, gifted daughter leading the choir with such self assurance. Yes, that natural transition has happened. Perhaps others saw it sooner than I, but now I know, she is complete within herself and my role in her life has changed.