Why God Gave Me a Little Girl

So Isis approached me this morning looking like this...

And we had a conversation that went like this...

"Bye Mom." (Mom? What happened to the endearing term Mommy?)

"Bye-bye Isis. Where are you going?"

"Shopping. Muuuh-ney."

"Oh, do you need some money? What are you going to buy?"

"Shoes."

And off she trotted with her gem heels, purse, shopping cart and big girl strut. I will tell you what terrifies me about this. Not that she is two and now calling me Mom. Not that she knows to ask for money when she wants it. But what scares me is that she wants to buy shoes, and even more frightening, that she wants to go shopping at all. Isis is becoming a girl....a girly one.

When I was pregnant I knew for a fact that we were going to have a boy. Mostly because everyone in the entire world had informed me of this. And when everyone in the entire world informs you of something, it must be true. But inwardly I was also pretty convinced we were having a boy. Mostly because I am the kind of person who has always related better to boys. So I figured that since I related better to the male species, that God would put a little boy in my life. It would be best for all of us. I just never did well with girls. I hate shopping, like I seriously hate it. I don't know how to put make-up on. I honestly don't have a clue. I lack sympathy. I can't stand pettiness or drama or accessorizing or lingering or options. So on July 17 2007, when the doctor announced that we had a little girl, my words were, "You are kidding me."

But he wasn't. We had a girl and she was ours and I was supposed to take her home and show her how to be one. I was brought up on a farm which would make me a Farm Girl which is a nice way to say Tom Boy. Where was the little boy I had promised myself that I could wrestle with and throw against the wall? What in the world was I supposed to do with this little swaddled estrogen package who would one day want to buy shoes? My only option would be to send her out to Portland to spend some time with her Auntie Kate.

Growing up I balked at the inner and outer beauty that comes with being a woman. I skipped the whole dress scene and the need for long, drawn out conversations. What I am realizing is that God intended for me to be a girl and if I wasn't going to be one, He was going to give me one to raise. He is giving me a second chance. So I have surrendered my hard head and have decided to let God grace me with a girl. She is gentle and loving. She cuddles, and giggles, and wears heels and chapstick. She is a sympathetic crier. She is sweet and giddy and loves a good hat. She rubs my back and says, "It's okay Mommy." She wants dresses. Every morning she puts on a shirt and says, "Ooooohhhh." She wants Kate's clips in her hair. She runs to the mirror. She has beautiful blonde hair and the darkest brown eyes. She shows me the beauty in being a woman.