Fairies and Innocence, Holding On

Ainsley has become a bit secretive about her room.  She often tries to get away with locking her door, and who knows what she's stashing up there in those many desk drawers of hers.  She's learning to retreat when she needs to regroup, even shies away from family story time sometimes to read on her own.  It's heart breaking and lovely all at once.

The other day I was helping her tidy when I lifted her blinds and found a shrine to the backyard fairies she so fervently believes in.  On the window, facing out, she'd taped a note.  "Dear fairies, I love you so much.  I believe in you.  Why won't you let me see you?  Please write to me, anything, so I know you are real. Love, Ainsley."

My heart stopped for a minute, broke a little too.  We started the tradition of leaving a tiny fairy written note with their tooth money, but I hadn't realized she'd been wanting more evidence.  It's one of the millions of parenting decisions that I have to make in a day.  How far should I take this?  How much is just good childhood fun and imagination? How much will it hurt her if she ever truly stops believing?

She's already declaring that she's not going to share what she's asking Santa for this year.  "He knows.  If he's the santa I think he is, he'll know."

I am reading a new book, unlike any book I've read before.  There was a guest pastor at our church this weekend and his sermon was incredible.  His message was so profound, I need a whole separate post about that, but my point is about his book that I brought home to read.  The first chapter is about loss of innocence and how it's the first and biggest thing we must overcome as adults.  Children are born innocent and pure and perfect.  Somewhere along the way we shed that and with it welcome in a whole host of unpleasantries and demons.

So much of it is resonating with me.  So much of my conflict is within myself, with my own insecurities and feeling like I need to defend my choices, or like I feel I'm being judged or doing it wrong.  If I wasn't worried about what other people thought and could just focus on the goodness and the joy all around me, esepcially with my children and in my marriage, well, life would be different.  But I have lost that and I struggle.

Now I am watching my oldest child start to shed bits of that childhood wonder.  Just today I screeched at her for saying "no" when I told her it was time to read during rest time.  I ranted at her, frustrated and angry.  When I can step back I know that so much of my frustration with her lack of wanting to do schoolwork in the summer is because I am worried about her getting behind, I'm worried about what her 2nd grade teacher will think of the mom who didn't make her child work everyday to stay sharp as a tack.  If I take away that pressure, I am delighted by my girl.  She spends her time so well, so creative and innovative and free.  If she's not into reading for hours a day, well, there are far worse things.

I'd rather she spend her time with those fairies while they are still around for her.