Renewed Perspective, through the looking glass

It is hard, when it comes down to it, to realize that the 40 hours of rehearsal time spent carting your child back and forth to play practice resulted in 27 seconds of stage time (Yes, we clocked it.) Three words chanted in a group of five girls. Makes a tired Mom grumble to herself, "Not worth it." Makes the same mom lash out at, not one, but TWO, unthinking brothers who make comments like, "That was a total waste of your time and money!", or kind, considerate words like "you didn't really do anything" to the performing sister. Maddening.

So, I take my frustration and disappointment to Jesus, who cares even about the smallest of things like "my kid didn't get a big part in the children's play". I begin the process of thanking Him, that although she wishes that she could have had a bigger role, she is largely unaffected by disappointment. She notices things like "If the main character comes out last during curtain call, and we come out first, then we must be the least important in the whole play!" She observes, but is no more bitter for it. She comes home each day with new theatrical information such as "the green room is not actually green." She has enjoyed hanging out with friends backstage and making myriads of rainbow loom bracelets. She spouts off everybody else's lines with ease from hearing them so many times, and mimics various accents. She compliments others older than herself who have done well and gets their autographs. She is fine. So, what's wrong with me?

A meekness problem. Knowing how great she is at memorizing lines, and how much she is capable of, and being bummed out that she wasn't able to showcase those gifts. A grown-up sense that everything has to be "worth it" and recognized: the price of tickets, participation fees, gas, and time spent going back and forth. If I step away from my grown-up bottom-line sensibilities, and peer through the looking glass, I can see:

We have made good memories, and shared something together. Her grandmother gave her a copy of Alice in Wonderland. She has been reading it during wait times, and we have been following along with the audio version in the car trips. We had a family movie night enjoying the Johnny Depp version of the Mad Hatter. We have had tea parties and an "unbirthday" party, and would have even tried croquet if my man hadn't purged the set during his last garage cleaning raid. She has been happy, and has learned to play a small role with contentment. Perhaps her mama should learn to do the same.