It reduced her to tears.
My daughter was pulled aside, her motives and commitment questioned. Her concern for others and willingness to respect authority were impugned. Because her heart and deference are authentic and pure, it absolutely blindsided her.
Later that same day, a package arrived for her. The inauspicious cardboard mailer contained a t-shirt from a race in Portland, a gift from friends she made over the summer at a running camp in Washington state. (And an autographed photo of Emily Infield. Woot!) But the most priceless gift inside was the card. The words inscribed affirmed my child for her
Are privacy and authenticity mutually exclusive?
The call for authenticity has taken up residence in yet another forum. It’s no longer the mantra just of small groups and friendship; now blog posts and Facebook status updates are required to contain some degree of personal drama to qualify the writer as being ‘real.’ It appears there’s no venue in which privacy is deemed appropriate or even important.
She’s a feisty ball of zeal perched on top of two spindly legs.
And it’s her first year of running for a school cross-country team. My little sixth grader was so eager to join her older sister in this sport this year. Together they’ve gone to practice for a couple of weeks, but for the most part have gone their separate ways upon arrival to run with their friends.
I arrived early to collect them the other day and got to watch the final activity assigned by the coaches: a tempo run for just under a mile. In the distance, I spotted my little gal’s hot pink shorts, streaking around the course in third position. For more than half a mile, she held her own with the front-runners.