Sunday, I blogged about my daughter growing more active in church and how I, no longer as active, have been relegated to “Jada’s mother” status. Author Y. Calleiro commented that it’s hard to let go, and I told Yvette there was a story about the moment I learned to let go. This morning, I’ll tell it.

Years ago, when Jada was finishing her master’s degree, she was assigned to a school for kids with special needs. She fell in love with the kids and would bake cookies and cupcakes on special days to take to her kids. Every night she’d have a new story about one of her students that would make me laugh my head off or move me to tears.

One particular day she invited me to spend the morning and attend a play she was directing at the school. When we approached the front door, students were lined up to go in, but when they saw me, they went into a frenzy. Some were shouting and jumping up and down. Others were downright screaming. Hi, Ms. Mims, hi, Ms. Mims. Over here, Ms. Mims!

I started smiling like a fool as I beheld this display of affection. I turned to my daughter with delight because by now they were pushing to get to me, but Jada pulled me into the building.

“How do all your kids know me?” I asked, a little thrilled, a little breathless. 

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Mommy, they were speaking to me!”

The other Ms. Mims had arrived!