My husband, Michael, and I squeezed into our seats in the sanctuary at St. Rita\u2019s School, just before the start of the annual Advent program.<\/p>\n
I could see a few other eighth-grade parents down in front and knew they had arrived early, jockeying for the best seats, video cameras at the ready, not wanting to miss a daughter\u2019s beautiful solo or a son stepping up to the microphone and reciting a Bible verse to the hushed crowd.<\/p>\n
I had nothing like that to look forward to, no proud YouTube moment to e-mail friends and family. My daughter Elizabeth would be spending the evening hidden among the bell choir and the chorus, where even I couldn\u2019t pick her voice out from the others.<\/p>\n
I was embarrassed to feel this way. I didn\u2019t want to be a stage mom. But I knew my daughter had so much more to offer!<\/p>\n
She\u2019d been a mystery to me ever since she hit her teens. The more I coaxed her to take a step into the spotlight, the more she insisted on fading into the background. She had a beautiful voice. She liked to read. She was a Girl Scout, played piano and did well in school.<\/p>\n
Why was she so reluctant to share her talents so that others could appreciate them? Didn\u2019t she realize how important leadership skills are? Just once I wanted her to have a moment to shine. But this was the eighth graders\u2019 last chance to perform. Next year they\u2019d be at the high school.<\/p>\n
Some younger kids took the stage, waving to their parents, glancing nervously at each other. They looked so cute in their Christmas sweaters and dresses. I remembered when Elizabeth was that age, how she burst out in song at the least provocation. She hadn\u2019t been shy about singing in front of others then, and she talked a mile a minute. Now she barely said a word when introduced to an adult. How could she have changed so much in a few years?<\/p>\n
One of the little girls read a short verse. Her beaming mother popped up out of her seat to snap her picture. The girl stepped back to join the group in \u201cAway in a Manger,\u201d their tiny voices barely carrying to the back of the church.<\/p>\n
I wanted to be that mother again, Elizabeth to be that child. I praised her. Encouraged her. Asked her about school all the time. This was only her second year at St. Rita\u2019s. I wanted to be sure she was adjusting okay and making friends. But her responses rarely went beyond \u201cEverything\u2019s fine, Mom.\u201d She practical\u00adly lived in her room. I couldn\u2019t remember the last time she\u2019d helped out around the house without me asking her.<\/p>\n
God, I\u2019m not sure I even know who my daughter is anymore.<\/em> But it was more a plaintive thought than a prayer.<\/p>\n The children paraded off the stage and the next group marched on. I thought about all the Christmas shopping I had to get done, the papers I\u2019d brought home from work to read. I felt myself nodding off, and Michael poked me in the ribs. Finally there was a brief intermission. I stood to stretch my legs and overheard two women talking behind me.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you love these programs?\u201d one said. \u201cIt\u2019s wonderful to see how much talent these kids have.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey always do a great job,\u201d the other woman said. \u201cIt\u2019s one of my favorite parts of Christmas. It won\u2019t be the same when my son is in ninth grade next year.\u201d<\/p>\n I wondered which of the solos or readings her son was doing. Of course she was looking forward to his performance. Was it so wrong for me to want to feel proud of Elizabeth in the same way?<\/p>\n The lights dimmed and we sat down. The bell choir took the stage. I strained to see Elizabeth, but my view was blocked by someone in front of me. Between numbers a young man read about the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks. The woman behind me leaned forward with her camera. Next up was the chorus.<\/p>\n From my seat it seemed like Elizabeth was barely moving her lips. Not that it mattered. The audience\u2019s eyes were glued to the soloists. It felt as if every eighth grader had at least one starring moment. Everyone except my daughter.<\/p>\n The show ended to thunderous applause. I looked for the nearest exit but the aisles were already clogged.<\/p>\n The woman behind me smiled at me. \u201cWasn\u2019t the program wonderful?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you\u2019ve got an eighth grader,\u201d I said, dodging her question. \u201cSo do I.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s your child\u2019s name?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cOur daughter is Elizabeth\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cElizabeth? You\u2019re Elizabeth\u2019s mom?\u201d the woman said, her eyes wide with excitement. \u201cMy son talks about her all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n I searched my memory to recall the names of any boys my daughter had mentioned, but came up blank. I looked to Michael. He only shrugged. Could she be thinking of a different Elizabeth?<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s always so kind to him,\u201d the other mom continued. \u201cShe\u2019s really helped him fit in.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh,\u201d I said, finally understanding. \u201cIt\u2019s your first year. Welcome to St. Rita\u2019s. Last year Elizabeth was new. I\u2019m sure she understands what it\u2019s like for your son.\u201d Slowly we snaked through the line to the middle-school classrooms, where we\u2019d pick up our kids.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, that\u2019s not it,\u201d she said quietly. There was something in her voice that commanded my attention. \u201cMy son is autistic. While he\u2019s gone here since kindergarten, and his siblings before him, as he\u2019s gotten older it\u2019s been harder for him to fit in. But this year has been a positive experience because of Elizabeth. She not only accepts him for who he is, she\u2019s made a difference in how others see him. I\u2019d really like to meet her.\u201d<\/p>\n I saw Elizabeth waiting at the door of her classroom, her face unreadable as usual. I took a deep breath. Would this woman be greeted by the girl she thought she knew or by the uncommunicative teenager I lived with every day?<\/p>\n I turned to the woman and quickly introduced her to Elizabeth. I could hardly believe the change that came over my daughter.<\/p>\n \u201cHello,\u201d she said, waving her hand. She smiled, stood up straight and made eye contact, without any coaching from me.<\/p>\n \u201cI like your son,\u201d Elizabeth said. \u201cHe\u2019s got a great sense of humor. Sometimes he and I are the only ones who get the teacher\u2019s jokes.\u201d She giggled and added, \u201cIt\u2019s nice to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n Then she hooked her arm into the crook of Michael\u2019s elbow and tugged him down the hall. \u201cDad, I\u2019m hungry!\u201d she said, morphing from polite young woman back into typical unruly teenager. I turned to the woman, whose face was bright with happiness.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve got a good kid there,\u201d she said. \u201cShe\u2019s something special.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d I said, nodding, slowly letting everything sink in. \u201cYou know, she really is.\u201d<\/p>\n Interpersonal skills and the ability to see others\u2019 God-given talents, weren\u2019t those the hallmarks of a good leader too? I wished the other mom a Merry Christmas and hurried to catch up to my husband and my daughter, my own shining star.<\/p>\n