This weekend my girl danced in the Nutcracker ballet for the third straight year. She was a beautiful snowflake and a spunky gypsy. I teared up as I watched her in each performance. I think I saw her grow up a little.
Madeline loves to dance. She loves everything about it. She is always excited for class. She loves her instructors. She enjoys the costumes and makeup. She values the camaraderie of the girls and lives for the thrill of performing on stage. She is an upbeat, artsy kid. Dancing suits her. She takes pride in it and derives such joy from it.
So, after months of preparation and rehearsal, we arrived at the theater for her first of four performances. It was then that I learned that one of her 3rd grade teachers from last year had passed away earlier in the day. We knew she was sick and I was aware that her passing was imminent.
Mrs. Kuhlmann was Madeline's math and reading teacher - a sweet and happy spirit who clearly loved to teach. I suspect Madeline was one of many who quickly connected with her and grew to love her over the weeks and months of the year. I knew I had to break the news to her before the weekend of shows was over. So many people already knew. She needed to hear it from me.
She danced beautifully that first night. I told her the sad news afterward. She was inconsolable. She was mourning this very special teacher. But she was also terribly sad for Mrs. Kuhlmann's young daughter, whom all the kids knew and loved. When a child learns that another child has lost her mother, it strikes at the heart of her very own sense of security in the world.
Madeline slept on it and continued the weekend of shows with a fresh perspective. She remembered that it was exactly one year before that Mrs K brought her daughter to see her students dance in the Nutcracker. She told Madeline that she loved watching "her girls" dance. What a gem in Madeline's memory chest.
As Madeline finished the remaining performances this year, she was definitely sad. But she seemed to dance with a determined joy that I think Mrs. Kuhlmann would be proud of.
By the time of her last performance on Sunday, I knew Madeline would be all right. She will keep dancing, perhaps with a new understanding of worldly things. But always with joy. She learned something from her teacher; a priceless lesson far beyond reading and math. She learned by watching Mrs. Kuhlmann to live every single day doing what you love and to find joy in the moment even if the joy is not so evident.
Thank you, Mrs. Kuhlmann. Your passing hurts. But your work, your joy, and your spirit live and breathe in many, many children. God rest your sweet soul.
