Later, with only two items that pass muster -- as I’m putting the hangers on the dozens of items that didn’t work -- Kristin comes to me. She puts her arms around my neck and says, “I’m sorry I was being so difficult.” Again, she sheds a few tears, and I marvel at the incredible gift, privilege and responsibility of being a mother.
“Kristin,” I say, “You weren’t difficult at all. I’m sorry you live in a world where so many adults have failed in their responsibility to treat children like the treasures you are. Thanks for allowing me to be the mom, Kristin. The mom who loves you more than anyone in the world could possibly love you. The mom who wants what is best for you.” She steps back, looks directly in my eyes, and says, “I love you, mommy.”
We leave the store a bit more determined to fight for our values, a bit more disgusted that there has to be a battle at all, and a lot closer to each other. All in all, it’s been a day I will long remember and even come to cherish as a reminder that fighting the culture is sometimes frustrating and exhausting, but always, always worth the effort.
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