Christmas came in small packages this year. Big things packed in little boxes.
First, we have to go back to February 2012. I went to a conference here in Nashville called Blissdom. I came home talking a mile a minute (Ok, that’s not really a new thing for me). Filled. With the power of women who do work they love. Who use their words to wrangle love, laughter and community around the internet. Who put themselves out into the world. I found a place where I fit. For the first time in a long time. I wasn’t the only one who had a need to wrangle a moment into 500 words and hand it over to the world as an offering.
My head was overflowing with ideas. I believed. In me. Believing and creating. Powerful things. Girl Wonder sat back and watched the creative aftermath. The desire to build sparkling places with my words and my heart.
My Christmas gift to her is a full conference ticket to Blissdom in March. As her Mamma, I can light a fire under her and maybe even a little bit inside of her. To feel a full on creative rush; she has to light that fire herself.
I want her to feel that feeling. The one where you can do anything, be anything, stand at the edge of the world with your arms spread out, spinning, shouting, channeling that thing inside of you, calling you to make something fierce and beautiful. What better place to do that then in a room with 600 or so women; who do it every day. What better way than to see people eyes light up, their hands start flying and the words spilling as they talk about the things they love.
My Girl Wonder has left the realm of little girls. She’ll turn 14 the month before we go to Blissdom. She’s not a full grown woman. She’s on the edge of unraveling who she really is. She’s trying to find the place that works for her in a sea of shape-shifting girls at school.
Do you remember being 14? It’s all about finding a place. With the pretty girls. The Quiet Girls. The Party Girls. The Sporty Girls. It can hurt. Trying to move in and out of circles. Trying to find the spot where you can unfold and relax.
She says she’s the “weird one” out of all her friends. She prefers to spend her free time coaxing sweet sounds from a violin. Plugging in her amp. Playing a riff and leaning on a whammy bar. She practices guitar cords while watching Dr. Who.
I want her to know it’s OK to be more than one thing. To be someone who reaches inside to make things for the rest of us to marvel over.
In March, Mamma and daughter will load up the car, plug in the tunes and drive 10 hours to the Lone Star state. Once we’re there… well, I hope to sit back and watch my baby girl build a bonfire.
