Tonight is “Chick Night,” the
personal holiday I share with my daughter, the night before Mother’s Day. I have an extraordinary Mother, so on the eve
of Mother’s Day, this re-post is dedicated to you, mommy, and all my
sistahfriends and mommies around the world with an S on their chest…
Train up a child in the way
he should go,
and when he is old he will not depart from it.
and when he is old he will not depart from it.
Proverbs 22:6 (ESV)
The Saturday
evening before Mother’s Day, every year for the last 12 years, my 14-yr-old and
I have attended the ballet. We call it “Chick Night.” We take care
dressing, fancy hair and manicured nails, before dispatching to an evening of
unhurried conversation, dining, and sharing something we both love, Alvin Ailey
American Dance Theatre.
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Sisters in
Motherhood, by Thomas Blackshear,
given to me by my Gayle....
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The first year, the
tickets were a gift from my mother-in-law, who joined us. Every year since, I
have surprised my child with tickets in a different location, from first row
orchestra (on center), to second tier, where the experience is more production,
less intimate, but no less captivating. We’ve literally sat in nearly
every section of the theatre. Now that we are so familiar with the
company and its repertoire, we compare performances, year over year.
As she grows, the
experience has evolved beyond just attending the event. I look forward to
spending time with the interesting young woman she has become, catching up,
hearing her thoughts, getting a window into her world. She’s already asked
if we’ll still be doing this when she’s away at college. I pray we’ll be
doing it until I’m buying tickets for a granddaughter (or two) to joins us, and
even that the tradition will continue long after I’m gone.
What’s the
training? That we fellowship together, look forward to spending time
together. That I am teaching my daughter a lifelong appreciation for and
loving support of the arts, both as a participant and a patron. As dancers,
many years, we have observed choreography only to comment, “hmm, that’s how it
should be done…”
I want to be
SuperMom, like my mom. I want to give to my girl, as my mom gives to me,
a sense of flawless invincibility, of strength grounded in faith, the ability
to flawlessly sashay into a theatre like we own the joint, being cool,
gracious, friendly, the one you’d pray to be. I want, I pray, to infuse her
with a spiritual cool that carries her from girlhood to womanhood, from being
single to being married, from being wife to mom, so that there will always be
ballets, and family dinners, and secrets to share, and experiences to remember.
I learned to be a
mother from my mom. I’m trying to train up my child to conquer the world,
because it is her birthright. So, as I navigate the teen years, and learn to
breathe instead of scream when things get rough, I know I can always look
forward to “Chick Night.” And when I think the teen years will simply never
end, I am reminded of my abundant blessings. Providing further evidence
that God is Good.
Oh, even at 66, you've made me long for a mommy like you and your mom! Good for you for teaching your daughter with your inherited gifts. My mom was a SAHM but too busy with cleanliness, orderliness, and strict discipline that there was never any sharing, any fun, any chick nites. I'm not complaining -- she gave me great values -- she just didn't make our relationship personal and intimate. She's gone now, and even still I get hungry for what you've shared.
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