It’s usually about 5:15am. If we make it to 5:30am, we consider ourselves fortunate. For several months, it was the tunes of High School Musical – the likes of Gabriella and Troy ushering us (however much against our will) out of REM and into consciousness. These days, it’s the dueling lyrics of the surfers vs the bikers from the Teen Beach movie series. As soon as one song ends, our feisty thirteen-year-old daughter barks an order to “Echo” to play the next song of her choosing. This is usually the point where one of two problems occur. The first is, because our daughter insists on listening to her music at sonic-boom level, Echo usually can’t hear the next request being yelled to her. And so begins the utterly painful repetition of “Echo! Stop music!” voiced with increasing volume and frustration until Echo can hear over her own volume (?) and respond appropriately.
Once the music stops, my husband and I know to take a quick breath of relief and prepare ourselves to listen to problem number two play out. Because our daughter has Down syndrome, her speech is not always as crystal clear as Echo needs to understand her request. And, just to be clear, past experience has taught us we are not to get involved (i.e. door slammed in our face as we break the sacred teenage closed-door boundary to offer our services). So, the back and forth begins – Mary tells Echo to play one song and Echo comes back with entirely the wrong tune. The two of them go on like this for some time until Echo finally gets it right and the singing and dancing can finally continue.
Every morning. This happens e. v. e. r. y. m. o. r. n. i. n. g. Like all seven of them in the week. All 28 to 31 of them in the month. I fully consider Echo a part of our family at this point. I actually find myself empathizing with her when her best efforts to get it right don’t pan out and find myself cheering her on in my head – “C’mon Echo. You’ve got this.” I am always impressed – and oddly grateful – when she does figure it out and makes my daughter’s wish come true.
As I listened to Mary sing and dance her way into a new day this morning, I myself was downstairs snuggled on the couch, coffee in hand, trying to listen to the daily teaching through the Hallow app for the 40 days for Lent. (Side note: if you haven’t yet tried the Hallow app, sign up now. It is so – so – so good.) The entire series for the forty days of Lent is based on one word: surrender. Does anyone else’s skin crawl at that word? I’ll be totally honest in confessing that those nine little letters present what I find to be the most difficult challenge in life. Oh, how I love control. It is all at once my best friend and my deadliest enemy.
My faith life is just wonderful when I’m talking to God and he’s right in line with my every need and desire – and perfectly-planned-out-plan. I’m just the most fabulously faithful person around when I bark a request and God understands and plays just the tune I asked for to keep me singing and dancing happily along. It’s when he doesn’t seem to hear me just right and asks me to dance to a different tune. That doesn’t sit well with me. The worries and anxieties are quick to pile on, his voice is drowned out by the noise of the world, and I find myself in the all-too-familiar back and forth of insisting I know best and asking for all the wrong things.
I’m learning, slowly but surely, that true surrender means having a grateful heart in all things. It is my daughter who gets up every day and, no-matter-what, begins with song and dance. Her life isn’t easy. Her extra chromosome makes so much of what we take for granted immeasurably hard. She’s vulnerable. Oh, is she vulnerable. And she feels fear and stress and doesn’t have the words to even explain it. But the joy. This inherent, indescribable strength, perseverance and joy in this beautiful little soul. It is the purest – most powerful – example of surrender.
Of course, surrender is not a one-time thing. It’s different for everyone, and for me anyway, it’s often a moment-to-moment request. “Jesus, I surrender myself to you. Take care of everything.” In this seemingly simple prayer, we are promised to find our freedom and asked to greet each day with expectant and grateful hearts. We’ve got this. I’d say it’s time to dance. “Echo, play music.”