The Third Degree

One of my dearest friends in Haiti is leaving on furlough Wednesday, so a few of us were going to have dinner before he left.  I came home from Maison, took a super quick shower and put on capris and  a tshirt.  I used a little eyeshadow (very rare for me in these parts), put my everyday sandals on, and walked downstairs.  Magalitha was sitting with our cook (who told me I looked pretty).  Magalitha looked me up and down and said, "Where are you going?"  I said, "To dinner."  She replied with squinted eyes, "With who?  Are you going with a man?"  "You remember Kyle and Kristi?  They came to visit Adriana when she was born.  And my friend David.  Is that ok?" I asked.

She continued squinting at me, trying to decide how she felt about all this.  Finally, after admonishing me not to walk alone, and not to talk to people on the street, and insisting that I be home by 8:00, she said, "Ok, you can go."  I kissed her and said, "Thanks Momma.  If I'm not home by 8, I'll call you."  She said if I wasn't home by 8 she was coming to find me.  Then she told me I look pretty.

At 8:10, we were still enjoying our ice cream, so I texted and told her where I was, and that I was coming soon, and that I love her.  Her response? "Ok, I'm waiting for you."

In that simple interaction, I saw her hope and her love and her trust, all sitting there, waiting for me to guard them all.  My precious girl, who knows the dangers of this place, and so many things that she should never ever know or understand, was concerned for me.  My heart literally swelled up inside as I sat there with my friends.  I got home and didn't see her upstairs, so I texted her to tell her I was home, to sleep well, and that I love her.  Her simple reply, "ok".  

I may not have any of this parenting thing down, and I can't pretend that I do.  But building trust with my girl is as simple as calling her when I say I will.  Putting minutes on her phone so she can find me when she needs to.  Taking her to the doctor when she says she's sick.  Daily I learn that it's not in the big stuff, but the simple normally unnoticed everyday stuff.