Fashion Models:
Sunday Thoughts

She was a tiny girl.

Her world was not an easy world.

She would grow and learn and watch and hope.

It would take many years for the truth of her uneasiness to show its true self. It would take many words and many tears. It would be overwhelming and frightening and sad. It would be ... an awakening. A calm after the silent storm.

It would turn the girl's world around. It would come full circle. It would then turn away from the tiny girl towards many new directions. Destinations she could not foresee - nobody could foresee. There would be more misery and yet ... through the pain it would offer a glimpse of hope - of relief. Not just for the girl, but for others as well.

She would finally see the thing that was hidden in the shadows. The thing that was subtle. The rumble. The thing that hurt so many people. The thing that hurt her.

It would wear on her for her entire life, this dark and secret thing. It would wear on her family. She had worn it and carried it and even the knowing ... would not rid her of it. It would always be. It would always be theirs and it would be hers.

But ... she would emerge whole. As whole as could possibly be. She would strive to be stronger and wiser and happier because of this thing that she once felt ... could surely destroy her. She pushed through it ... to survive. She hoped this would be true for the others.

And through it all ... there was only ever ... love. The searching for it. The need to possess it. The desire to lavish it. There was only ... ever ... love.

She is no longer that tiny girl.

The darkness is not bright yet, but there is much light. The secret no longer holds power and yet it tries often to take hold. It is bold and dangerous. It is filled with scars and breaks and sorrow. It is filled with pain. It no longer holds power, but it remains strong.

The woman protects the tiny girl - and as so, took on the load of the burden.

And then ... she laid it down and pushed all that was inside of it away.

The burden was a heavy load. Too much for a tiny girl. Too much for anyone.

And now it is over there ... the burden. Sitting as if it is special for all to see. With it's shame and sadness. With its guilt and anger. It's over there ... away from everybody. They do not have the strength. They do not need to carry it.

It needs to stay over there ... away from the tiny girl. Away from her mother. Away from her father. And ... away from me.

I'm a country music nut. I've always been drawn to the ballads ... the stories.

When I write - I mean ... when I really want to write ... I turn on the country music, turn it up loud and let the words of the songs lure me to a place that ... inspires me.

The one song I play over and over (when I'm listening to CD's) is Brooks & Dunn's - "Believe". I guess I'd have to say that it is my favorite song of all time. As hard as that is to do - pick one song - I'd have to say that is mine. I turn it on, crank it up really loud and am immediately drawn into the words and melody - swept away.

I love that. I love that something as simple as a song ... as lyrics ... as a melody ... can swoop in and interrupt my life - slow my constant motion - tear away my shields and clattered thoughts ... and take me away. Every single time. No matter where I am or what I am doing ... that song stops me. It's as if it speaks to me. As if it says ... slow down ... feel the moment ... listen to me.

Aside from the fact that I love Brooks & Dunn and believe that they are really the only ones that could do "Believe" justice ... the reason the song touches me ... is because it is about God. About believing ... believing that there is something beyond this world. Something beyond what can be seen. Something powerful.

Is there a song that does that to you? A song that touches you like no other song? Do you have a song that ... moves you?

If you would like to listen to "Believe" - just go to my sidebar and click on the first picture. Listen to it - maybe it will touch you too.

I imagine that one day I will stand in front of God and He will say, "So, here you are." He will then open His big book and announce, "Let's see how you did." And, I am sure I will not say a word.

Then He will ask, "How do you think it went? Are they happy - your children? Did they succeed in the world? Are they good and loving people?"

And I hope I will be able to answer honestly, "I did the best that I could do. They are happy. They are successful. And they are good and loving people." And then I hope that God will pat me on my back and I will go on my way.

But who knows? I would suspect that when my children are called to stand in front of God and he asks,"How did it go? Was she a good mother?" that my children may have a different slant on the whole thing and God may very well just summon me back.

Years ago, when my twins were small, we were traveling to the Corpus Christi beach one summer. In the van with us was my Aunt Don, my mother's sister, in the front passenger's seat next to me. One of my daughters was complaining from the back seat that the sun was shining through the window into her eyes and she cried, "Mama, the sun is in my eyes." I said, "Just wait a little bit and it will move," knowing full well that the sun would move when our van followed the curve of the road in such a direction that the sun would move away from her window. When this indeed happen a short time later, I heard my little daughter turn to her sister and say, "See ... Mama can move the sun." I turned to my aunt and said, "See ... I can move the sun."

Sometimes I can move the sun and then sometimes I can't conjure up even simple answers. Why is bird poop white? But ... I have tried. I have tried to see what my children see and hear what they hear. I try to listen to them, respond to their every need, encourage them, and guide them. I have tried.

When the Princess was two years old, she came to my room one morning, climbed up onto my bed, got real close to my face and said, It's me. It's me (The Princess) - your tiny girl." I hadn't asked her who she was, I was asleep until I heard her words, but I was happy to see her. I would tell people this story and always say, "And she is ... my tiny girl."

You can't teach children to be this special. You can only hope that you are awake to hear the wonderful things they might say to you and look into their eyes and see their specialness.

I'm not the best mother and I'm not the worst mother. I'm somewhere in between. I strive to be better and I hope that counts for something when I stand in God's presence. I hope he realizes that I often did take time to ... hear them. To see them. And as for the rest ... I sincerely hope that I will be able to say ... "I did the very best that I could do".