"I don't knowww," she groaned, throwing her head back, and I caught her glancing at the clock as she did. "I mean, I do like it sometimes. If I like the song. And if it doesn't take a lot of practice."
"You used to love practicing. Are you playing your clarinet much?" I prodded.
"Ehh," she evaded.
"How about your ukulele?"
"Ohhh. I learned that one song. A while back."
"Do you still enjoy singing?" I continued.
"I just don't know!" she answered, with all the dramatic exasperation of a fourteen-year-old.
"Is it because of all these boys you've been talking to lately?" I asked directly.
"What?!" she turned towards me and tried to look appalled. But failed. Like me, she has no poker face.
"All these boys," I answered, nodding my head towards her phone. "You've been talking about all these boys and answering all these texts and coming in here giggling. Is that why you're not motivated to work on music right now? Come on, girl. You know I can read you."
"Okay, fine!" she conceded. "But you don't understand. I was a really ugly kid..."
"You were not! I've seen your pictures."
"I was! I was an ugly kid, and my grandparents used to say things like, 'Oh, you're going to have so many boys wanting to go out with you. You're so sweet and smart and cute and funny, and all the boys are going to like you.' You know....things grandparents say just to make you feel better---even though the boys never did like me. But now...." she nodded towards her beeping phone with a knowing giggle and left her sentence dangling, as my mind seemed to remain silently stuck on the fact, "but you're just fourteen!"
After directing her a few more questions, asking if these "boys" were nice, if her parents knew about them and approved, I said to her quietly, "You know, Annie...even if these boys weren't asking you out, you would still be all those things---you would still be sweet and smart and cute and funny. You would still be this awesome, talented girl, regardless of what they're doing or thinking. You know that, right?"
"Yeahhhh, I knowww," she drawled, eyes looking elsewhere---in a way that told me she didn't really know. And I hadn't known either at age fourteen, or even twenty-four. She anxiously watched the clock so she could walk out the door and check her text messages.
And I wished we could transfer the life lessons we've learned directly to someone else and save them the heartache of learning the hard way.
But I also breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness that I have learned, although I did learn the hard way. In weak moments, I still sometimes forget. But I learned. I know who I am. I know that who I am doesn't change, even if every male is oblivious or not attracted to me. I know that who I am doesn't change if people look at me disapprovingly, observing what they consider flaws or mentally tweaking my appearance, snickering that I am too small or critically noting that I have gained a few pounds. Who I am doesn't change if people think my talent is lacking or my decisions way off-base. Who I am, and who God created me to be, doesn't ride the changing tide of other people's opinions, doesn't require the approval of anyone around me.
And in human moments of weakness, that is easy to forget, yet also planted deeply enough in my soul that I pick it back up when I sense I am basing my self-perception on how I assume other people view me.
Who I am is enough.
Designed by the Creator and continually growing in His skillful workmanship.
Regardless of outside opinion.
If only I could plant that insight into the mind and heart of a fourteen year-old girl, desperate for attention.
But she is learning and growing too.
And someday, she will know.
She will know that who she is has nothing to do with who anyone else claims her to be.
She will learn.
Hopefully---much sooner than I did.
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