Do I really know?

2:54 p.m. Today's project was to go back through memories of my daughter Heidi, now 26 and getting married next year, and relish the days of her childhood and youth.

What brought on this trip down memory lane? Pleasant musings on the joys of motherhood? Funny scenarios of childhood antics? I certainly have a treasure trove of those, but this morning caught me in a more somber mood. Our Bible study, Me, Myself, and Lies, by Jennifer Rothschild, had a chapter in which we learned how to use our memories, painful or embarassing as they may be, to honor God, to view them through His eyes, and meditate on how those events could have impacted others for good. Because, as Romans 8:28 tells us, God works all things together for good to those who love God and are the called according to His purpose.

I began reflecting on a question Heidi had asked me a few days ago that has literally haunted me. We were talking about cantaloupes and I said something to the effect that she didn't like them. She said, "I like cantaloupes!" I said, "I thought you disliked melons." She said, "Just honeydews!" After a second, she said, "Mom, you don't really know what I like or dislike any more, do you?!" I made a speedy recovery and said, "You were away from home during college, and now you're an adult; everybody's tastes change. You've got the right to have different tastes!" But it still bothered me--like I hadn't been paying attention, even though I'd told her a few days before that no one knows her as well as I do, except one day her husband will. No argument there, thankfully.

But how well do I know this middle child? "I'm the good child," Heidi would state throughout the turbulent teen years of her siblings, and she was right. The others weren't ever in serious trouble, but were very loud, assertive and wore their mouths on their sleeves! Kriss and Heather were talented performers, from elementary years onward; Sean and Steven played football, soccer, and ran track; Kriss played baseball. But Heidi preferred quiet activities like Brownies, swimming, tennis and golf. She even said, "I want to play golf. It's a quiet game." Heidi was a breath of fresh air in all the commotion.

It's easy for a quieter child to get lost in the shuffle, so I would take her to the library on Saturdays and teach her to read when she was in kindergarten, and then we'd walk hand-in-hand downtown while Heather, then 3, was at Riverside Ballet Arts. We'd cap off our expedition with a big bag of green burritos from Del Taco on Riverside Avenue and Central, then 69 cents. Most Saturdays, we were off to somebody's soccer or Little League game. Heidi was always there, supporting and cheering, and helping with Baby Steven.

When I ran for school board, it was the neglect she had suffered in a 90% bilingual classroom that spurred me on to challenge the policy that segregated kids of one race on a single track, and won resoundingly. Change came swiftly and our kids were among the thousands of children who received a solid education. But there were sacrifices. I had to leave for twice-monthly meetings by 4 p.m., leaving dinner ready, and just needing a warm-up, which Steve could do, or in later years, Heidi took charge. It was the same for political campaign events and then grad school. Quietly supporting, being a blessing, and cheering for goals accomplished--her own and others' !

I could wallow in guilt for not being home every single night during those years, but I praise god that Steve always was! I strongly feel, and know, that when God calls, He takes responsibility for all impacted. I always made sure to wake the kids up extra early on school days so we could share a long morning and I could read our daily Pslam and Proverb to them before we headed out.

As the years went by, Heidi came into her own as an excellent student, an athlete, and even modeled for a while at Nordstroms. A first romance eventually fizzled after high school, as such romances will. But she always kept her Christian testimony through ups and downs with friends during both high school and college, confiding in me as always. She became a leader of her dorm friends, undoubtedly due to her strong convictions and consistent lifestyle. I was just grateful that she came home on Sundays to attend church, do her laundry, and clip coupons for me. [Somehow, this had become her self-selected job during her younger years.]

I'll never forget when Steve and I had to sit the kids down while they were still in elementary, jr. high and high school and tell them that I had a suspicious lump in my breast. It was Heidi who went up to her room crying unconsolably. I went to sit with her--it was very hard. That time, the lump was benign. The next lump four years later was cancer. Now a college student, Heidi rallied around me with Steve and the other kids, even driving me to a Christmas Bible study get-together at our pastors' home because I couldn't really move my right arm with the drainage tubes from surgery still in place. Not much can keep me out of fellowship!!

The two of us have suffered strains during stressful times, probably because we are quite a bit alike, but she does still confide in me. Receiving her new teacher pink slip two years in a row, enduring a very bad teaching assignment, a back injury, and a seriously bad allergy season have not helped! Steve's Alzheimers threatens to worry us about my children's generation--who will get it? She and I have both learned to "take refuge under the shadow of God's wings," as Psalm 91:4 puts it.

But we now have a joyful season coming up--shopping for a wedding gown, selecting a photographer, florist, caterer, etc., for next summer's signal event--her and Pavel's wedding.

I may not know all I should about my children--who does, really? But I know and can trust in the One who knew each of us before we were ever formed in our mother's womb. Or before my children were formed in my womb. It is a real comfort and assurance to know that each of us matters to God.