20 Seconds of Insane Courage

Today our baby girl turns 9. I’ve made a tradition since she was around 3 years old to let myself ugly cry about how time flies, how she keeps growing up (without any permission). What comes out of that time is an annual “portrait” poem.

Here’s this year’s portrait of Jael (age 8).

20 Seconds of Insane Courage | Portrait of Jael, Age 8

The other night,

family movie night comprised

of Papi’s fave of all time:

We Bought a Zoo.

In telling his kids how he

summoned the strength

to ask their mom on a date,

Matt Damon’s character states,

“All it takes

is 20 seconds

of insane

courage.”

Maybe that’s all it takes to begin

a poem like this—

my annual tradition

to honor that best

and worst feeling:

watching you grow.

Letting pride and joy swell in my throat

then sit still while soaked

by the waters of wondering

where the time goes.

How did we go

from sonogram

to reciting the psalms?

from diapers

to your declaration

that you aim to become

a black belt of the tenth degree . . . oh,

and get your PhD?

from bubble baths

to your baptism?

Someone once told me

most of parenting is just

paying attention.

learning to not look away

from your growing pains,

nor from

the things that make YOU come

alive, instead of quenching your fire

in hopes you’ll fall in line

with my plans, my timeline.

To see you “Jael all over the place”

is all I could hope

for my favorite 8 year old,

because we’re all better for it. 

So, I bless, I bless, I bless

your courage

to be the new kid in school

(again)

to practice flip turns in the pool

like you’re training for the Olympics

to try to ride a wave solo

on your first surfing lesson

(your instructor scrambling to grab your board

before you zoomed to shore)

to tell me when I’m being too harsh,

your honesty of heart

your refining the fine art

of how to roast

(mostly me, it seems)

with wittier and wittier jokes.

your ability to dream and sing

in front of others,

or to run in and out

of the bathroom during a sparring class

after getting kicked and punched

because (and I quote):

“I had to let myself cry.

Then I splashed my face with water

and got back to the mat

to fight.”

You have no idea how much I,

the 8 year old still in me,

learns from your moments

of 20-second-insane courage.

And maybe that is all it takes:

keeping my eyes glued to your life

for clues of redemption in mine.

to hold and behold

your uniquely-shaped glory,

by far my favorite movie:

your unfolding story.

You can read some of my previous “portraits” of Jael in my book, Love Has a Story.