Girl On Fire

When my kids and I hear this song on the car radio, my daughter often wonders aloud whether Alicia Keys wrote the song for "The Hunger Games."  (Turns out that's not the case.)

 

But if my daughter were to turn and look at me during her speculations and if she could see through my sunglasses, she would notice tears welling.  The more I hear the song, the more closely I listen to the lyrics, the more I think of my daughter. 

 

 

 

Today she burns in another future-determining forensics competition, portraying a Holocaust rescuer and delivering extemporaneous speeches about international current events.  She's nervous and excited and anxious to know the outcomes.

She fears that anything short of victory will extinguish what little flame she thinks she has to offer.  But she doesn't see what her mom can see -- that she burns with such vibrant and majestic promise that a "loss" or even a victory will not dampen the slow-building blaze.  She's just a girl, but she's on fire.

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Meanwhile, when my son hears the song, he usually wonders aloud, "Why doesn't she just stop singing and help the poor girl?"

Surprise party

Buried deep in the back of my van, in a pile of plastic bags stuffed with clothes, shoes and other soon-to-be Salvation Army donations is a toy reindeer that poops candy.  It was the gift I received at the white-elephant Christmas exchange for the freshman girls small group I lead.  Accompanying the smiling plastic reindeer was a small packet of hard candy pellets.   The reindeer, when gently pushed on the back, would emit a jaunty jingling of winter bells while depositing his sweet pellet offering.

One person in my family can’t imagine why I would want to give this away.

I loaded these many donation bags in my van several days ago thinking I would drop them off that very day.  But a full schedule and biting wind chill have caused me to procrastinate. 

Now, whenever I make a sharp turn or hit a bump – and there are many of these on the uneven country roads I drive – the buried reindeer’s jingle bells play.  And for a moment each time, driving by the slow-melting effulgence of snow-covered fields, my everyday travels feel like a festive adventure.