My 2yo, Baby Girl, likes books. And, she’s finally begun to like them for their value beyond paper needing to be torn and/or eaten. I can’t tell you how many pages and covers I’ve taped back together during the continuing saga of our love affair with books. I (and the boys) are thankful Baby Girl has moved into wanting to read the books now.

For a while, reading constituted simply turning the pages to follow her whims. Forward, backward, starting at the beginning or the end or the middle–it didn’t really matter. We were “reading.” By herself or with a captive audience, she mastered the mechanics of flipping through books. From there, she moved into the point-and-question phase with a perpetual “that?” attached to each touch of her sweet finger. Of late, her version of “read book” has finally reached some semblance of actual reading. She wants to listen to the words on the page, usually (though not always) in chronological order. Don’t get me wrong, listening to the words still evokes commentary. Her ever-present curiosity combined with pride at learning to speak new words prompts many questions and declarations relevant to the illustrations on the page.

Boots. Boots. BOOTS.

You may not recognize that phrase from any of the children’s books you have read recently. In keeping with her brothers and about a million other youngsters over the last fifty years, Baby Girl loves Good Night Moon, the classic by Margaret Wise Brown. No, there aren’t any boots mentioned among the “bears sitting in chairs” and the “old lady whispering hush.” Still, the other night her emphatic “Boots. Boots. BOOTS.” became more than parenthetical during bedtime. I tried to move on through the “good nights.” I tried to turn pages and continue with the “mittens” and “kittens.” To no avail. Baby Girl was insistent on “boots,” and as each utterance grew louder, I realized that we weren’t moving on until we addressed footwear.

The “boots” were actually bedroom slippers beside the bed of the sleeping bunny. Only now they ARE boots because Baby Girl won’t be swayed from her assessment. And by her insistence, she gave me a reminder about being heard and brought to light some things I hope for her future.

You see, Baby Girl has a way of repeating her tiny phrases until they’re acknowledged. And, she’s not afraid to get loud about it. Her brothers did too at her age, but somehow hers seems more definitive, more insistent. And, although interrupting is a no-no and a gentle, quiet spirit is admirable, I don’t want to break that in her. I don’t want to shush it out of her. I don’t want to squelch her own understanding that what she has to say is important. No, I want her to learn some things about her voice, things born from my own pitfalls. I want to tell her this…

Keep. On. Speaking.
Keep on repeating.
It’s ok to want to be heard.
Believe in yourself enough to make sure you ARE heard.
Don’t give up.
Don’t give in to the idea that your thoughts don’t matter.
That your opinions can be overlooked.
Say it again.
And again.
Even if it’s never heard.
Keep saying it.
Don’t acquiesce.
Don’t say it’s ok.
Don’t gloss over your feelings or opinions.
Say it.
SAY IT.
Because you are worth it.
You are worth being heard.

When you’re hurt, don’t suck it up. Say it.
When you’re successful, don’t celebrate in silence. Say it.
When you need something, don’t put yourself last. Say it.

By wielding a deaf ear, don’t ever let anyone back you into invisibility.
Don’t ever let anyone silence you into less than the beautiful creature you really are.

The tiny messages God continues to include with my gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

Little Drummer Boy has been pestering me about the “Welcome Spring” ladybug flag we’ve had hanging off our back stoop since sometime in June. I mentioned recently that it was almost Fall, and we needed to hang our scarecrow version instead. Since then, he’s asked me almost every day if I’ve hung it. I had to answer “no” each time with the promise that we would get it out of the cabinet like we do around the beginning of each October, and he could help me. Of course, his mind moved on to Transformers and other Super Heroes, and mine moved on to ten thousand other things.

October has really sneaked up on me this year. I’m usually counting down the days until this month begins with the Fall-like weather and changes in nature it usually brings in Mississippi. This year, however, I have had a hard time noticing. I suppose I’ve had other things on my mind.

I was sitting at the dining table with Little Drummer Boy this weekend. It was after a meal at some point, and I was lamenting aloud that I had forgotten something or not done something he’d asked or something I had planned. I really don’t remember. Whatever it was, LDB’s response was, “That’s ok.” Even at his age, he’s an encourager, wanting me to know that all is right with the world even if I hadn’t remembered something I was supposed to. He leaned in close with a look of intent in his smiling eyes and added, “‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Hmmm. So, we’re celebrating? To be honest, I had actually been dreading the “celebration” of the Autumn season, and I hadn’t been willing to really explore why. But, I looked in his vibrant face with the innocent confirmation of a joy some silly tradition I had randomly established created, and at that moment I realized we were already celebrating. I had been saying that we needed to celebrate Fall, that we were going to do it with some of the usual pumpkins and Indian corn and scarecrows we usually bring out for the season. But, I hadn’t actually gotten around to the celebrating part. Until I heard Little Drummer Boy’s declaration of it, I wasn’t really in the celebration frame of mind.

October is usually a month of evaluation for me. I think most of us have those times in the year when our thoughts naturally gravitate toward self-inspection and life-inspection. For me, one of those times is October. Perhaps the tendency began because my birthday falls at the end of the month. Plus, there is something about the first touches of coolness in the air that seem to inspire an airing out of my spirit after the long summer.

Airing out. I find myself writing (and thinking) about transition a lot recently. My essays tagged with “change” are growing in numbers. Of course, there have been a few logistical changes in my life recently–namely beginning my own business, a change that has affected my approach to work, my finances and in practical terms, how I spend my days. More than the physical changes, though, I’ve sensed my heart in transition. Over the last year, I’ve been seeing dormant areas of my life that need awakening. I’ve had a renewed recognition of the passage of time and of how quickly it seems to move. I’ve noticed areas of life that I’m just not satisfied with–areas I’ve determined must change in order for this journey to more closely match my hopes and dreams.

I’ll confess that these realizations have darkened the skies in my anticipation of Fall this year. I was beginning to see this season of typical introspection for me as foe rather than friend. For, the “taking stock” that so often accompanies October for me usually goes hand in hand with a strong sense of celebration in an inherently fruitful time, and a joy in the acceptance of change and newness that I’ve had a hard time mustering lately. Oddly, I’ve been holding myself back from my usual excitement about the arrival of Autumn. Perhaps in my mind, the change of seasons represents so much more of my own changes than ever before, the need for turning over leaves. Perhaps it reminds me more of the discontent that’s been taking root, and of the decisions and will to act that is usually required to produce sustainable change.

“That’s ok. ‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Somewhere in the five years LDB has been in this world, he’s caught on to the fact that life is worth celebrating. That Fall is worth celebrating. That it’s fun to do a silly thing like taking down the ladybug back yard flag and replacing it with the scarecrow version. It’s fun to notice the big pumpkins and sunflowers and the silly crow sitting on the scarecrow’s shoulder. And, somehow in his declaration of our “celebration,” I realized that indeed it is “ok.”

Whatever frustrations I’m laboring through with the changes I’m experiencing or anticipating in my grown-up life, there is still room for joy. Even if I’m not fully where I want to be, where I feel like I need to be, there is still the opportunity to exercise the discipline of celebration. Even if it only begins as a discipline, “that’s ok.” Even if my process of change has me falling short of turning over new leaves at the pace I was hoping, “that’s ok.” Perfection isn’t required for celebration. And given the choice, I’m not willing to hold off on celebration until perfection arrives.

I read something this week that encouraged me to open my eyes. To look around me and see with true awareness the realities of my life. It’s so easy to focus on areas where we want changes and to overlook those that offer continual blessings and laughter and enrichment. It’s so easy to say “yes, but.” I was reminded to look with eyes of potential and possibility at the circumstances that have been challenging and to recognize how far I’ve come. To CHOOSE to focus on the incredible blessings I’ve been given, the treasures entrusted to me. To choose to embrace the reality I’ve written of: that life is change, and change is growth. Each step–even the rocky or slippery one– is one taking me further on the journey of a life worth making.

On Sunday, Little Drummer Boy, Bug, Baby Girl and I determined that the scarecrow in the cabinet had gotten lonely. We even thought we could hear him calling out to us. LDB was certain he was sad he hadn’t been able to “watch us play” this year. We pulled him from the pile and put him on the flag pole. A first step this season.

“‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”