Hope Floats

Ashley is just a baby. (I'm aware that you already knew that.) While she is in this helpless stage, my main job- besides loving her to pieces- is to protect her and make sure that she thrives.  I think I'm doing okay in that area.  But every now and then, my mind wanders into thoughts about her future.  As she grows and becomes more and more independent, my job shifts and grows as well.  I will become less and less the protector, and more and more the guide.  I'm okay with this role (for now... I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that she already tops 2 feet tall, much less the thought of her being on her own).  Then a question popped up- how will I handle her being hurt?  Not the bruisy, oops-I-fell-and-skinned-my-knee variety, but the I-wanna-curl-into-a-ball-and-disappear kind of hurt.  The kind that makes you feel like you'll never be happy or confident again.


I actually hope she experiences pain.  Not all of the time, mind you!  Not even some of the time, really.  But just enough so that the triumphs seem that much more sweet.  I'm consistently taken aback by the entitlement attitude of some folks.  As if the world owes them a constant stream of successes and gratification.  What they are unaware of is the deep down, through-to-your-bones, soul lifting elation that is only possible when a person rises out of some kind of tribulation.  I want my daughters to experience true, earned success, and I can't wait to celebrate those successes with them!