Julia is all air. She floats to you and smiles wide before floating away again. She’s a cloud of joy really, and it’s hard not to love every second with her. In fact, it’s hard not to pull her into my lap, shower her with kisses, and rock her like I did when she was still wrapped in a swaddling blanket and gripping my fingers while she still nursed.
So I’m trying to remember this quote from Da Xia:
Women are small and fragile, . . . yet the power they hold is unmeasurable.
Julia’s growing. She is seconds away from showing the world her true strength, no matter how small she is. But its her unmeasurable power is undeniable. It’s a fierceness that flashes, a knowledge that I didn’t know she had.
Each time I look in her direction, I see more of the woman she will become. I see her spin suddenly to tell me something, anything. And in her eyes is a intensity, an adult knowing that wasn’t there before. But she’s still packaged into this tiny almost-five-year-old body, all legs and pigtails. So I resist rocking her in exchange for adding to her power, to building up her power, filling up her bucket.
I tell her how amazing her arabesque is. I admire her artwork. We celebrate her achievements, no matter how small. We discuss important things, like being a good friend and sharing and why it’s so important to be kind. We talk about how God might be a princess and which foods will help make her stronger. I hug her when she needs it, and I let go of her hand when she needs that too.
That’s part of my job description, and I love seeing the difference it makes. I love seeing her realize her power.
She might be small. But look out world.