shake it off

my kids (for the most part) think they are awesome. they are totally correct in that thinking, too: they are awesome. they are creative and funny and clever. they are passionate and (mostly) kind. they have an insightful view on how the world works. they value their bodies as part of themselves, but never a definition of themselves. they are happy and healthy and they like themselves. and they like their lives, I think. 

there is a nagging thought in the back of my head that it may not always be this way. they will not always think I am as cool as they now think I am. they won't think our lifestyle is as fun or sensible or enjoyable. and they won't always like themselves. at some point they will feel hopeless about some decision they've made or feel a sense of failure because someone didn't approve of them in the way they'd hoped. they will not like their bodies. they will be bogged down by someone else's definition of who they should be and what they should do and how they should look. they won't always think they are awesome.

I've had lots of one-on-one time with cora lately and lots of that time has been in the car it seems. cora loves to sing and dance from the safety of the backseat and she gets stuck on a certain song until she learned it all the way through and the rest of are so sick of it we can't bear the thought of hearing it one more time. she asks question about lyrics and asks to hear certain parts over and over. she sings with intensity in her face and glee in her body. it is a wonder to behold in the rearview mirror.

after about fourteen listens in a row to "shake it out" cora finally asked me what the devil is. I'd been waiting for the question since the first time we heard the song, churning in my head to form a real answer. so when she asked I'd already been thinking of how to answer her for quite a while. I told her that people say the devil is the opposite of god and god is love so the devil is all the things that are the opposite of love. "like hate?" she said. "like grouchiness and meanness and lying?" I told her yes, exactly all of those things. I told her in the song the singer talks about how hard it is to dance with the devil on your back. I told her it is hard for us to live with meanness and lying and hate holding on to us. I told her it takes work sometimes to get rid of those things, to "shake it off" like the song suggests. I peeked back to her in the rearview mirror to see her looking out the window. I wasn't sure if she was listening or not. "can you start it over?" she said. of course I can.

she explained the devil to jamin that night at supper. "right, mama?" she asked when she had covered it all just right. right, bean.

I will not be able to keep my children sheltered from all the world will try to tell them. I wouldn't want to even if I could. some of the most beautiful dancing comes in the moment you finally do shake that devil right of your back. even though I cannot protect them for hate and meanness and lying and grouchiness, I can keep them dancing in the meantime. I can keep reminding them how awesome they are. I can remember how awesome they believe themselves to be right now. I can show them my own dance, keep dancing even when I don't want to or don't feel beautiful or talented or brave enough to dance. I can keep shaking off my own devils, the lies and the meanness I carry around in my own head. I can stand up on stage and claim my own courage and sense of worth so that they can be brave to claim theirs, too. 

when I think about my children, the rich tapestry of struggle and hope and loneliness and comfort and challenge and bravery that their lives will be, I think about my own parents, especially my mom. I think of my view of her from my childhood, how beautiful and confident she always seemed. even in those years when I needed space from her, when I was convinced she would never understand me or what my life was like, when that space must have been so hard for her to grant me but she granted it anyway. I think of the way I see her now as an adult, the way I can look back on my childhood and see all she was carrying in addition to being my mom. and when I look back at my mom and when I look at her now I see her dancing. in the kitchen with that silly pop music station she loves, in the car on long trips, in the pews at church as she let her baptist roots show, with my children in the driveway when we pile out of the car to see her. my mom is a dancer. long before florence told us to shake that devil off, my mom was doing exactly that. 

so now I will tell cora she is one in a long line of dancers, all different kinds. I will keep telling her how beautiful she is, how smart and valuable. how her body is part of her but not even close to all of her. how she can do hard things, how she gets to decide what to let in and what to shake off. I will tell her that she is surrounded by dancers willing to dance with her all along the way. I will tell her that love is always bigger. and I will pray and pray and pray that she will believe those things. 

dance on, friends. your life depends on it.