The phone rang on a Saturday night. It was Kelly.
"Mom, where were you?" she said. "I tried to call you from a store because I want you to help me make up my mind. Oh, Mom, I found the most beautiful dress for my formal! I feel like a princess in it, but it's really expensive. What do you think I should do? Should I buy it?" I didn't have a moment's hesitation. "Yes," I told her. "Buy the dress."
But in those few short minutes on the phone I didn't have the time or the words to explain why I thought she should have the "princess" dress she'd found.
There are so many reasons I would give my daughter. . . .
For growing up without many clothes or vacations, because there was never enough money, and not complaining about either one - that would be one reason.
For studying so hard and doing every extra-credit assignment she could get her hands on, so she could go to college.
For all those times she passed the soccer ball, when she knew she could have easily run and scored but valued being a team player more than being a star.
For that fierce determination when she was slammed in the nose during a game, and despite blood running down her face, kept yelling, "I'm fine, Coach! I'm not bleeding anymore. Put me in, Coach!"
For giving up varsity soccer at college because she had to work and couldn't (wouldn't!) let her grades suffer.
For giving up her spring break one year to build houses for the poor in Tijuana and coming home scraped and bruised and sick and exclaiming, "Mom, that was the most wonderful thing I've ever done in my life!"
For deciding that even though she was supporting herself she could still find the money to sponsor a child in El Salvador who has less.
For deciding that faith is the most important thing of all.
For telling me when I wished I could give her more, "Mom, I think of you as my angel," and reminding me just how priceless love is.
Oh yes, I do think that daughter of mine should have that dress. And she's right that no one will notice that her shoes don't match (since there's no extra money to buy new shoes). I know that people will only see the shining joy in those big brown eyes of hers, and that radiant smile that could light a midnight sky. But Kelly was wrong about one thing. I don't think that she'll look like a princess in that dress of hers: To me, my darling daughter is a queen.
- By Anne Goodrich
"Mom, where were you?" she said. "I tried to call you from a store because I want you to help me make up my mind. Oh, Mom, I found the most beautiful dress for my formal! I feel like a princess in it, but it's really expensive. What do you think I should do? Should I buy it?" I didn't have a moment's hesitation. "Yes," I told her. "Buy the dress."
But in those few short minutes on the phone I didn't have the time or the words to explain why I thought she should have the "princess" dress she'd found.
There are so many reasons I would give my daughter. . . .
For growing up without many clothes or vacations, because there was never enough money, and not complaining about either one - that would be one reason.
For studying so hard and doing every extra-credit assignment she could get her hands on, so she could go to college.
For all those times she passed the soccer ball, when she knew she could have easily run and scored but valued being a team player more than being a star.
For that fierce determination when she was slammed in the nose during a game, and despite blood running down her face, kept yelling, "I'm fine, Coach! I'm not bleeding anymore. Put me in, Coach!"
For giving up varsity soccer at college because she had to work and couldn't (wouldn't!) let her grades suffer.
For giving up her spring break one year to build houses for the poor in Tijuana and coming home scraped and bruised and sick and exclaiming, "Mom, that was the most wonderful thing I've ever done in my life!"
For deciding that even though she was supporting herself she could still find the money to sponsor a child in El Salvador who has less.
For deciding that faith is the most important thing of all.
For telling me when I wished I could give her more, "Mom, I think of you as my angel," and reminding me just how priceless love is.
Oh yes, I do think that daughter of mine should have that dress. And she's right that no one will notice that her shoes don't match (since there's no extra money to buy new shoes). I know that people will only see the shining joy in those big brown eyes of hers, and that radiant smile that could light a midnight sky. But Kelly was wrong about one thing. I don't think that she'll look like a princess in that dress of hers: To me, my darling daughter is a queen.
- By Anne Goodrich
