I should have known even before her birth that my daughter Memphis would be …a challenge.  After seven months in utero (and while my husband was in Africa), she settled down on my right kidney, causing a complete block.  The doctors put in a stent to allow the kidney to drain for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I was sent home in pain, advised to only take pain relievers as absolutely necessary.   Memphis did not move from on top of my kidney until she was induced into this world two months later. 

          As she has grown, I have thought back to those months of pregnancy. She is passionate, fiery, and extremely independent. She does nothing halfway. When she had tantrums as a two year old, they were award winning, often bringing adults to tears. She makes things happen wherever she goes. Sometimes that leadership is good.  Sometimes, well, she’s just downright bossy. Many times through her preschool years, I was distraught, wondering what I had done wrong, what I could do to help her “behave” and act like the other kids. 

          Then, Memphis started kindergarten.  Surprisingly, I did not feel the lump in my stomach that I felt when I sent my son. I know my assurance came from the fact that Memphis knows how to speak up for herself.  Loudly.  Fortunately, Memphis loved kindergarten and had a wonderful Christian public school teacher who honored her personality.  Early on, her teacher called home and described how a little girl named Kelly had been given a reward that day in class.  Ms. Z. explained that Kelly was always in her colored square during floor time and worked quietly at her desk. She was a model student by traditional standards.  As she was describing this little girl, my tongue started to taste sour.  Memphis was not anything like this little girl. Apparently, as the girl got up to choose something out of the prize bucket for her exemplary behavior, my Memphis jumped up and shouted, “Hey!  That’s not fair!”  

As Ms. Z told me the story, we giggled; it was a classic Memphis moment.  As I hung up the phone, God started doing something in my spirit.  I thought, “Memphis will never be like that compliant, studious, quiet little girl.”  For the first time, instead of feeling a longing, I felt glad.  Glad!  I realized that God had hardwired a personality into Memphis that was not going to fit into a neat little red square.  Instead of working myself and Memphis to tears to make her into a Kelly, I needed to love Memphis as she was and help her to be the best Memphis she could be. 

          I felt an incredible burst of freedom.  Freedom!  Almost as quickly, I realized that the task would be no easy feat.  Memphis must still learn that there are times to talk and times to be quiet, times to stand up and times to turn the other cheek, times to laugh and times to cry.  Knowing how passionately she lives her life, I suddenly felt that familiar lump in my stomach, knowing that many people would try to hold her back, try to make her fit into a neat little box that’s not as messy as Memphis’ box. 

          Now I realize that I am going to have to help her fight to be all God wants her to be.  As God showed me to accept Memphis for who He made her to be, I began to look at my other children and realized that more than ever, I needed to listen and observe their distinctive personalities.  It is not up to me to change them.  It is my job to keep bringing them to Jesus, and to allow Him to work in their lives.  It is a perspective I need to remember more often.  Maybe I’ll ask Memphis to remind me from time to time.