I literally watched with awe as our Liliana marched up the mountain. She was so determined, so positive, so inspired."We got this mommy, we are Packards, I'm going the hard way, I'm getting stronger, I am never ever ever EVER giving up!"
Her sweet brother pushed his little legs to the absolute max led by her tenacious example before promptly falling asleep on my back after he could not walk anymore.
I could not help but stare at her sun kissed skin and wispy pony tail, her little arm muscles, her strong and sturdy legs and bum, and her beautiful back. She is so strong! She is so beautiful!
The new friend we were with commented that Liliana's legs look like a pro-athlete and went on to suggest that it must run in the family because, look at me. My heart surged with pride.
I am not ashamed to admit everything I just said. I am ashamed to admit that I've felt self conscious about aspects of our daughter's appearance at times. Just little things, like that she was born with a very crooked nose, that she has a huge (entirely endearing) gap in between her two front teeth, even that she is a little ball of muscle and already it is hard to find pants that fit comfortably over her strong legs.
Much like her Mommy!
It is no secret that the struggle with self loathing, which seems to be part of the human experience, has over the years manifested itself in me through an intense dislike of my body. I spoke several posts back about my New Year's resolution of a return to vitality, health, strength, and fitness. Part of this year's journey has been about learning to be peaceful with the body I was blessed with, for myself and for the sake of my children, who see everything!
And yet, it was in this moment and through the comment of a new friend that I realized the beauty I could not stop looking at in my darling was also a beauty that I had. A beauty of strength, tenacity, athleticism, and determination.
I have spent so much of my life pining for the coat hanger beauty of runway models and yet as I watched our girl I was gripped with the fear that she would ever want to look differently than she did marching up the Grassi Lakes. In that moment I also realized, in a way I had not before, the absurdity of me ever wishing I looked differently than do.
These moments of grace become something to hold onto when I come back down from the mountain top and the clear vision of things as they are fades into the busy mess of regular life.
What a responsibility it is to raise little people into wholehearted big people who have a sense of their worthiness and their mission!
And yet, what a gift our little people give us as they draw us out of our brokenness and selfishness and reflect back to us our own worthiness.
Moments of grace, indeed!
With love and prayers,
