Name Calling.

Today, as I was getting Remi ready for dance I wept.

Okay, I didn't really weep - that just sounded dramatic so I said it. Really I laughed. Wait, I didn't laugh either, that was a lie.

Actually I got frustrated. Yep, that's it. That's the truth: I got frustrated. Frustrated because she wouldn't stand still, she wouldn't stand up, she wouldn't sit down and she wouldn't turn around. I got frustrated when she wiggled and when she giggled. And I got frustrated when she asked for help and I got frustrated when she didn't.

And amidst it all - amidst the socks she took on and off and on and off again and the shoes she didn't want to wear because "Look! They have play dough on them" and the leotard she just haaaaaad to wear even though it was 30 degrees outside and the bow I put in her hair that was then smashed by the hat she wanted to wear - amidst it all I called her something I had never called her before. Normally I say...
"Come here Rem,"
"Remihope" (like it's one word),
"Remster,"
"boo,"
"sister"
or "love."

Those are my names for her. Bless her heart she sometimes even answers to Bubba. (Don't know, don't ask.)

But this time I called her "little woman." I didn't mean to actually, it just slipped out. But as the words came out of my mouth I realized how much sense they made. How she is growing and changing. How she is laughing at things she used to not understand. How she brushes her own teeth and knows what she likes and does not like done with her hair.

"Little" symbolizes the fact that if you turn your back for one second she will hit her brother over the head with her plastic golf clubs.

"Woman" symbolizes the fact that she will grab my hand and say "let's paint our nails, mama."

"Little" symbolizes her need for me.

"Woman" symbolizes the fact that it won't always be that way.

Yesterday I had a very rough day. A really rough one. I chalk it up to new places, new faces, still getting adjusted and all; God chalks it up to excuses. And so last night, as I crawled into bed I wondered what God thought of me yesterday. When He was trying to get me to hold still, stop moving, stop complaining, stop whining, stop screaming...what did He call me?

Did He call me "Melissa?"
Or "child?"

Did He call me "Woman?"
Or "brat?"

Did He refer to me as "Little?"
Or "immature?"

Did He call me "selfish?"

Did He call me "love?"

As I looked into Remi's eyes, for the 1/8th of a second that she was being still, I called her "Little Woman" - because what she is now is not what she will always be.

And I hope that's how God sees me.
Juvenile - but with great potential.
Immature - but ever changing.
Stubborn - but striving.

Maybe I'm over thinking it. Maybe He isn't thinking any of those things. Maybe He simply wants me to stand still so He can tie my shoes, in hopes that one day I'll learn to tie them myself...and quit tripping over my own tongue laces.

I guess there's a lesson in that as well.