little sponges

this weekend i finally caught up with the rest of the modern world and read, “the help.” once i picked it up i literally couldn’t pull my eyes away from the pages, and ended up finishing it in 2 days (at the expense of my sweet girls and patient husband!). and in the 24 hours since i read the last page, my brain has been swirling with the characters and stories and lessons and multiple complex layers within those beautifully written words.

amongst my many different whirling thoughts and reflections from the book, the one i keep landing on is the image of sweet two-year old mae mobley. my heart broke into a million pieces when i read her saying, “mae mobley bad. mae mobley no good,” after having heard that repeatedly from her mother. and then the pure joy and hope when her passionate and committed maid / nanny (abileen) begins to fill mae mobley’s mind and heart with affirmations: “mae mobley is kind. mae mobley is smart. mae mobley is IMPORTANT.”

i can’t let go of that scene (which is woven throughout the rest of the book), and am sure part of my connection to it rests within the faces of my own, sweet impressionable girls. their brains are like sponges, so the saying goes, and as with most cliches, it’s SO VERY TRUE. it amazes me how much these little brains can absorb and remember. just the other day piper reminded wen and i of a disagreement we had had months ago. she remembered not only the location (“in the living room of our house in tigard”) but the context (“you told daddy …. “) and the tone (“your voice was angry.”) good lord. so humbling. so frightening. so eye-opening. they are watching and listening and remembering everything. 

when the “little sponges” reference comes up, it’s usually in the context of intellectual learning – numbers or new languages or memorizing colors or animals or historic facts or the like. but thinking about lovely mae mobley makes me realize that this is the perfect time (no, critical time) to be filling these sponges with little seeds of affirmation that will hopefully grow and blossom and flourish as they begin the journey of growing up. i’m giving much thought as to what seeds i want to plant – what type of garden of truth do i want my girls to grow?

kindness. confidence. grace. forgiveness. humility. gratefulness. compassion. peace.

there are so many negative messages these little chicklets will encounter in their lives. they will hear (both from the world and themselves) that they aren’t the right fit, they aren’t good enough, strong enough, skinny enough, tall enough, smart enough. but i am hoping, praying, trusting that if we fill their minds and hearts early enough with the right messages (you CAN. you WILL. you ARE.), then the negative ones will have NO CHANCE against my strong and beautiful and courageous girls.

on saturday i took the girls by myself to the alstadt for dinner. wen had taken the car to a basketball game, so it was just me, two girls, one stroller. i prepped piper ahead of time that she might have to walk quite a bit, as bitty would likely need to ride in the stroller for the bulk of the journey. my sweet piper is fundamentally a “why walk when you can ride/drive/be carried?” type of girl, so i knew this might be a challenge. the walk into the city was no problem – downhill most of the way. but on the way back home, we got halfway up the hill and i could see her legs start to sag and a few tears / whines emerging.

“i can’t do it, mommy. i can’t,” to which i replied, “you can do it, piper! i believe in you.”

and with those short 9 words, i literally saw her spine straighten, she blinked back her tears and her legs began to march with purpose. i was amazed at the power of this quick little affirmation.  knowing that i believed in her was enough for her to believe in herself. these words filled up her confidence tank and gave her the push and encouragement to keep going. it was a beautiful, in-the-moment illustration of the impact that our words will have on these littles ones.

she took about 10 steps, stopped, turned to me and said, “say it again, mommy.”

“piper lane, i believe in you! i know you can do this.”

and she did.

my sweet little sponges.