You tell me it a couple dozen times a day, in your cheeky mandarin: “quoi dian” – hurry up, quicker! You say it every time you want me to do something and every time I stop to think. You tell it to me when I am finishing chores around the house and when I pretending with you. You say it so often that I have begun to hear it in my head even when you are not with me.
And you tell me too, when I haven’t been fast enough. I went out for school meeting with Naomi this morning and as I returned, swooping in for a hug and a kiss from “my baby Ava!!” you greeted me chirpy and shy with “ni de bu quoi dian” – you didn’t hurry! And I feel my heart sink, that familiar feeling of not meeting up to the standard. So often I feel like I am not enough for you – you are a child of such high standards, for yourself, and for others. A child of keen intelligence and super-fast skill. And I, I was the child who learned to love cooperation because competition sometimes meant failing.
And that’s when I hear the God-whisper, not even a whisper really, just one of those divine thoughts, those heavenly revelations. Falling as heavily, yet silently, as a tree in a forest,
“‘You weren’t fast enough’ is her way of saying I love you.”
And oh yes suddenly, that makes every bit of perfect sense. For in those few words you are expressing all the depth of relationship. Mama I love you, Mama I missed you, Mama I wanted you home again, Mama please don’t leave for long, Mama it’s never as fun without you.
Implicit in the “hurry up” is your whole spirit, ready for action, trusting and believing that I am right there beside you ready to run.
And I am, darling, I am.
Just hold on a minute while I wipe the tears off of my cheeks.