Happy birthday, groovy girl

I didn’t fully grasp the value of being unconventional until my daughter came into my life. She

entered this world sixteen years ago today. The day itself was unconventional. It was Memorial Day – one of those strange days that doesn’t quite feel like a holiday. We went to Joel and Denise’s house for a barbecue, but Denise ended up serving fajitas – something we teased her about mercilessly. I wasn’t feeling right. The baby wasn’t moving, and I thought for sure it should be kicking, if not doing the Mexican hat dance, what with the fajitas. Denise is an OB nurse, but didn’t have her stethoscope at home to listen for movement. Joel is a veterinarian, so we used the one he uses for cows. I tried not to read into it too much.

We ended up at the hospital as a precaution. But Dr. Locke said even though it was early, he wanted to get things started. The baby would be with us soon.

Sixteen years ago tonight, Abby arrived in her own time and in her own way. I loved her immediately. She was quiet and she slept. She started smiling earlier than expected (I don’t know exactly when – the poor kid’s baby book is completely blank). She didn’t talk much as a toddler, but she would take our hands and shove books into them until we sat down and read to her until she decided it was time to stop. She loved listening to music. “She’s my little Pat,” I told people – they had the same facial features and her temperament was just like that of my patient husband.

Then, when she started talking, it was in sentences. We were schooled in all sorts of things that she either saw or made up in her head. Most of the other little girls I knew played with dolls they named Nicole or Heather. Abby called her doll Shirley. Most of the other kids sat attentively during the children’s service at church. Abby (with Shirley in tow), if moved by the spirit, just kind of took over. I bought her outfits in shades of girly pastels, but she favored hues of bright orange and hot pink - preferably paired together. Her love of listening to music translated to singing – whenever and as loudly as she wanted. She dressed up as a witch one Halloween and insisted on wearing the costume every time we went to the grocery store well into the spring. Her teachers praised her intelligence. But more often than not, people would just watch her in fascination, not quite knowing how to respond to her. “Quirky” was an adjective that was used to describe her a lot.

I was alternately delighted and frustrated with all of this. I know a world where being unconventional is valued, but only to a point. You need to know how to manage it. How to morph into convention when the situation called for it. To blend in and be the nice girl when the witch costume is making people uncomfortable. I learned hard lessons about that when I was in middle school. I sold out and found a way to behave like everyone else. Abby was having none of that.

As the years went by, unconventional extended into how she related to people. The social aspects of school exhausted her, and she would need “down time” to recharge. She would come home inconsolable because the kids were speaking badly about a teacher or a fellow student. She possessed a sensitivity that overwhelmed her at times, and stirred feelings to which she didn’t know how to respond. She cried, telling me she knew what I was saying when I said she needed to find a way to rein it in. She just didn’t know how. “It’s not me,” she would say. And that’s just the thing. She knew who she was and was completely comfortable with it, but sometimes, it didn’t fit. That’s what was uncomfortable. More so for me than for her.

Since she has been in high school, Abby has found those pockets where unconventional is celebrated. She has thrived in an environment where there are others who are quirky and who continue to discover how to view their differences as something to offer the world. She has adults in her life who get her and encourage her and celebrate her.

Thank God for that. You know why? Because we live in a world where we need more people who are willing to turn against convention. We need more people willing to wear witch costumes to the grocery store. We need more to act when they’re moved to say or do something. We need more people who are willing to look at problems and solutions in a different way. We need more people to be sensitive to other people’s views and feelings. We need more people who are willing to thoughtfully consider a question before responding to it, or actually listening during a conversation, rather than thinking about what they’re going to say next. We need people who are unafraid to innovate, fail and try again. We need people who go against the grain and are willing to ask questions that make us feel uncomfortable.

I want to gather all the kids who don't fit in and feel inadequate and unworthy as a result, and tell them all of this. I want to show them that the people who have really made a mark on this world at one time were called quirky, weird, freakish or worse. I want them to know that everything they have to offer is precious and worthwhile and valued and needed. The first kid I need to tell this is Abby, and I'm doing it today.

My daughter is 16 today, and she has the soul of someone not just older, but wiser. She is one of the kindest, smartest, talented people I know. She has taught me that leaders are born, and they have to manage through lots of things to be made. I’m so proud of her.

I can’t wait to see what she does next.