Dear Hildegaard
Chobani yogurt and the freedom to fail
Dear Hildegaard,
There is a corner table at the local coffee shop that everyone wants. It feels private, and there are two, tall windows that let in all the light. You can see Main Street on full display, watching people ride by on their bikes and walk their dogs. One guy does both at the same time by tying his dog’s leash to the handlebars of his bike.
Someone usually gets this table before me, camped out with their laptop and books and coffee, but this morning: I got it. The owner is playing The Civil Wars. They are a band that got together and broke up within minutes, but I think you would like them. Great harmonies. Before I get to work, I wanted to write you a quick letter.
I’ve been watching the way you approach new things. When you were just a few months old, you tried to roll to your side and belly. It required muscles and coordination you hadn’t built yet, so it was really hard, and you would sob while you tried with all your might. The other day, you attempted to get up your slide while holding a sippycup in one hand and your stuffed monkey in the other. You were a little frustrated, just like we all get when things don’t come easily. But then, you did something amazing. You kept trying. You can now crawl up and down stairs, feed yourself with a spoon, get up into a chair without help, and when I open the fridge, you know exactly where to find your favorite Chobani yogurt.
The reason I bring this up is because I have never been very good at accepting defeat. In fact, I will often avoid things that I know I might not be good at. I don’t want to fail. I especially don’t want to fail in front of others. Why? Well, frankly, it’s because I care too much what others think of me. It’s one thing to care about others – that is exactly what we are called to as Christians – but caring what others think of you really has very little to do with love.
And I want better for you. I want you to be free.
Free to fail. Free to laugh off the comments of others. Free to love people without being distracted by how they perceive you. I tried pottery this year, and guess what? I’m terrible at it! But it was so good for me to work at something just to work at it. Just to try. I am working on trying without fear. And you are my inspiration, Hilde.
I watch how fast you run whenever you find an open space at the park or in the church sanctuary. Your only goal seems to be feeling the wind against your face. I love that. Last night, when I stubbed my toe, you stopped what you were doing. When you heard me say, “Ouch!” and saw that I was hurt, you ran over, threw your arms around my neck, and tried to hold me the way I hold you. You kissed and patted me. You are only 18 months old, and you are already the person I want to be. Unhindered, brave, and kind.
Lovely and life-giving words, Rachel. Thank you.
So beautiful!