As I’ve mentioned (casually, of course), my eight-year-old daughter danced for a huge 4th of July celebration here in Utah called the “Stadium of Fire”. While it was a great evening with headliner entertainment and the most amazing fireworks display in the country, the best (and nerve-wracking) part was seeing if Chloe’s dance experience would pay off for her. This whole dance thing was not her forte. And when a friend invited her to audition (for a very serious dance studio), she was the only one in the room who hadn’t danced before. But she got it, and we said let’s do this!
Over the weeks of rehearsals, I watched her struggle to remember the dance on her own. To not get distracted or exhausted during the toasty two-and-a-half-hour outside June practices (with dogs, the heat, wanting snacks, a nap). She was a trooper and kept going—encouraged by our ritual after-practice ice cream with her and her friend! Then it was all-day rehearsals in the sun, then finally the day of the event, and still she was unable to do the dances alone and get to different field placements without looking to someone else for help or feeling nervous. I worried and prayed for her, that she would remember the moves, not get distracted, not freeze in front of 30,000 people, and just plain enjoy the whole experience.
No biggie.
That night, we figured out where, in all of the 900 dancers on the field in the same costume, she was stationed. When it was time for her performance, I ran down to the bottom railing, camera in hand. WOW!! I was amazed. She completely lit up in front of the crowd! Smiling as if someone were continually taking her picture, she danced, she remembered, she had a blast. Even when they brought out big beach balls to throw to the crowd (what was THAT about) and my head flashed warning thoughts—“DISTRACTION, DISTRACTION”, she did fabulously, glancing but staying right with the girls. Go Chloe!
Okay, so my point here? SHE DID IT! This was one of those great mama paychecks; seeing someone you love go from where they were—nervous, unsure, potential untapped—and being with them as they grow into confidence, joy, and developed talent. She learned layers of things through this experience, most importantly, “I can do hard things.” And that will serve her in a whole lot of ways in the future.
That’s one of the great joys of motherhood. Learning, loving, growing, cheering each other on, and becoming who you are in a safe place and a loving home. This is the best! So mothers, as you are running children to baseball or scout camps or helping them with summer schooling, remember you are not just doing errands or getting them places. Enjoy the process of watching them perfect that hit, or stay overnight in the dark, or pass that test. You’re not just being there, you’re helping them become. And you get the mama’s paycheck to boot!
All my best,
Connie
