Missing my girl

Gracie isn't home this morning. In fact, she's been with friends for more than 36 hours (two nights in a row). I'm missing her.

I'm glad she is having fun and still feel a quick hit of thrill and relief when she gets invited out. She is part of a volatile class at school--16 kids made up of 12 strong minded girls, 2 quiet boys, 1 lively boy, and one Grace. The class needs her, and from what I can tell, uniformly adores her. But it wasn't always so.

When Grace started kindergarten 2 years ago, it quickly came to our attention that her class was a bit wild. I kept getting feedback from her teacher that Grace was too quiet, didn't participate in class, and was having trouble making friends. I learned that she was being left out on the playground--and typically just played all by herself. It was my first real experience of the searing pain motherhood can involve--the first time I really felt a piece of my heart crack with pain for the real pain of one of my babies. Sending your heart into the world all alone is never easy. It is infinitely more difficult when the heart you are sending is sensitive and self-giving to a fault. That is my Gracie.

To make a long story short, my precious girl worked her way into the affections of the entire class. Her social calendar is jam packed and it is not unusual to shuttle her from one sleepover to the next with barely a nod in between. People are attracted to hearts as pure as my Grace's.

I take no credit for her generous spirit. She is nicer than her dad and I put together. I've known others like her. Once per generation in my family, we get a girl child who is kind, loving, self giving, meek and generous. I'm told it was my great Grandma Hazel in her day. Next came our beloved Grandma Sue Sue, who we all know rocketed straight to heaven when her time came. Her oldest daughter, Marilyn, fills her shoes in the next generation. My sister Carrie is the kindheart of my generation. And my Gracie is the next.

My friend, Amanda, once described Carrie as "Costa Rica." As the only nation without a military, Amanda assured us that should aggressors dare attack the peace-loving nation, the powers of the world would quickly rush to its aid (we were all a bit drunk at the time). I can't help but worry about Grace out in the world--she is so sweet I am convinced the world will hurt her. But growing up along side my sister, I know that strong people race to the sides of people like her--and defend them against the ugliness of the world with more rigor than they defend themselves.

And today, I know Grace is safe--surrounded by her friends in a big, loving family similar to my own. I just miss my girl.