My amazing nine year old daughter Emma sang in chapel with her good friend Grace Ann. They sang "Firework" by Katy Perry. I think I may have been even more nervous than she was. I just wanted her to be happy with herself, proud of herself, to gain a small glimpse into the magic that is Emma. Just seeing her get up in front of her school . . . wow! She did it . . . in front of her school, her grandmother, and her grandfather (both with tears in their eyes). With a beautiful little voice my scared little girl and her friend sang . . .
Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,
Drifting through the wind
Wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards,
One blow from caving in?
Do you ever feel already buried deep?
6 feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you
You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July
'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colours burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in "awe, awe, awe"
. . .
I could not help thinking of that quiet little girl I first held in Russia almost 9 years ago. She did not smile easily. She was so serious . . . so reticent. She had almost lost her light -- that spark that God gives each child. That light that gives hope for our future and joy to our lives.
I also can't help but think of a another little girl, we will call her Kathy. Her mother was not ready to be a mother, but she was guilted into parenting, forced into parenting -- by her family. They had to protect "their blood" . . . their genetic material. Kathy's mother made her bed . . . she must lie in it. Kathy's mother had to "step up to the plate."
So, Kathy has enough to eat and she is adequately dressed. But, her mother, who struggles everyday, cannot delight in her. There is no time for tickles and giggles. While she tries her best, Kathy's mother, who does love her, still does not want to be a mother. And the family who insisted she parent, is little to no help.
I suspect (hope) Kathy's physical safety will never be an issue. But each day, her light will dim just a little bit more, until it is so far gone, that it cannot be ignited . . . her colors will not burst . . . she will not shoot across the sky.
CPS will (hopefully) protect her physical safety, the family protected "their blood" . . . But who protects her light?
