I’ve got an article due tomorrow, Miranda. What should I write about?” I asked my youngest.
“Write about me. You never write about me.”
Miranda is 10. She still wants me to write about her. The other three kids, not so much. Actually, she’s hitting pretty close to the truth. I haven’t written about her — or to her — in a long time. Just this morning I pulled out her journal — the one I write in and will give her at some undetermined date in the future. It had been over three years since I had made a journal entry. That’s pathetic.
Lots of folks record things — events, accomplishments, milestones — by taking photos. I do, too, but I’m rather lame at it. I’m much better at writing about them. And for me to go that long without a journal entry is like saying “nothing significant happened” when, in fact, lots of significant things have happened.
Miranda is pretty much our “living example” that God answers prayers. We didn’t always think there would be a fourth baby. At age 43, we were blessed with the girl that makes our family complete.
And, no surprise, I probably “babied” her more than I did the other three. I was on the tail end of eight kids. I remember what it was like having lots of people telling me what to do.
Miranda has a terrific memory. So much so that she was chosen to play the part of Jesus in the recent Passion Play performed by the students of St. John’s-St. Andrew’s Catholic School. Typically, a fifth- or sixth-grade boy plays that role. With there only being seven girls total in the two grades, it was determined a girl — one able to memorize a whole lot of lines — was needed. As an unbiased mama, I think she did great.
She does flips, front and back walkovers, twists, turns, lots of acrobatic moves both on the trampoline and on our kitchen floor. She gives our dog the most love and attention of any of us. And, since taking gun safety the past several Saturday mornings, her most recent hobby is practicing with her BB gun.
I still walk Miranda down to the end of our driveway on school mornings. We live right on State Highway 4. It’s a busy road and drivers don’t always stop even though the bus driver has the red lights flashing and his stop sign arm extended. For now, she still enjoys my company (I think!), but I can see where this is headed. My “baby” is growing up and will soon think it’s not necessary or “cool” for me to accompany her.
We have a sign on the wall in our house that says, “Home is where your story begins.” I hope — and pray — that all four kids will look back and say, “Yep, home was the best place to start writing my story.”
Rita Meyer is married and the mother of four children. She and her family are members of St. John the Baptist Parish in Meire Grove. Email her at email@example.com.