Just Like You

By now, most readers of this blog realize that I am a childfree adult. That was not by choice, but it is what it is. Every so often I wonder what it would be to have a child of my own. I wondered this yesterday as I cleaned up the guest room after Briana (Stepdaughter #2). I could have throttled her--stuff everywhere, dirty bed sheets, bits of paper and wrappers on the floor, bags of whatnot on the table and goodness knows what under the bed. I aired my feelings in the silence of the house, muttering threats and accusations aloud as I vacuumed. Yet the thought of hearing her voice on the phone saying the predictable, "Barbara, did you miss me?" makes me laugh and melt all at once.

Most of what I said in anger yesterday is what I heard my own mother say to me about being a mother. So I guess stepmothers have some small idea of what motherhood is about. But there is still something missing. I can't look into the face of a child and see myself. I can't hear my daughter muttering just like I do. I will not have the opportunity to see how my children might mirror me. There is no miniature Barbara who will remember me singing "Beyond the Blue Horizon" over the sink, or singing "La Dona Mobile" in the shower, a la Pavarotti. What I do will die with me most likely.

Oh well, it's all been said before, and there's no use in grousing about it. Maybe I've thrown myself into teaching, loving, and mentoring my students because they do stand in for children in some sense. At least, I can leave something of myself behind for the world in the students I train--at least, so I've thought.

Tonight, I checked my email before going to bed. There was a note from Jocelyn, one of my students:

Dear Barbara,
Thank you for your patience in guiding my work with clients as well as myself in the past 6 months. I feel so blessed to be working in the same site with such an amazing person like you are. I look up to you as a model and I truly hope that one day I can become as incredible as you are.
Hugs,
Jocelyn

I have a fan.

It warms my heart to get an email like this, particularly after my previous blog entry--that some of my university students are hopelessly juvenile. But Jocelyn is an excellent student and has lots of natural talent. She will go far beyond me in skills and achievement. When I watch her talk with clients, I see myself 20 years ago. When she gets excited and regales me with stories of "...what the family did when I said that!" I hear my own once-youthful voice. When Amanda tells me, "The whole time I was sitting there [in therapy] thinking, what would Barbara do here? I tried to be just like you right there" --I am initially shocked but complimented and cheered. I am relevant to the younger generation in some way. I could not be more deeply moved.

So, close to Christmas, I can say that I am forever grateful for the students whom God has placed in my path. I am thankful for their confidence, their receptive faces, for the way they challenge me with "the hard questions," their tears of defeat and fear, and the hugs and kindness they have shown me this last year. They shall never read this, as none of my students know of this site. But my heart thanks them, and my mouth says the words: "I am blessed by you, indeed."

Thank you, Jocelyn. God bless you again and again.