A's Got Talent

"Mommy, I don't have any talent."

"What?" I respond, hoping my question will buy time to think of an appropriate response. 

A flings herself dramatically onto her bed, buries her head in her pillow, and sighs with such exasperation, I notice the ceiling fan begin to spin.  "I don't have any talent," comes the muffled reply.

I'm dumbfounded.  At her age, I'm sure I'd never heard the word talent uttered, probably didn't know what it was and if I had, didn't care.  Perhaps if I had thought more seriously about my own talents at six, my mom and dad could have saved thousands on wasted gymnastics lessons.  I ponder A's sudden outburst.  Acting might be on her list of serious talent considerations....

"Of course, you have talent.  What makes you think you don't?"

"On America's Got Talent,  there was a six-year-old girl who could dance...."

That's debatable, I think, but respond, "Honey, that doesn't mean you don't have talent. You can sing, dance, paint.  You have lots of talents."

"But I could never go on a TV show with my talents."  Tears drip down her sweet cheeks.  I catch one on my forefinger and pat her on the head, seriously searching for the right words, fighting the urge to simply exclaim, "that's ridiculous" because this epiphany has clearly upset her. 

"Sweetheart, talents aren't meant to be performed for fame.  They are God's gifts to us to use in His service."  Realizing, this might be a hard sell, I grab her Bible from her shelf and open up to 1 Corinthians 12 and read about how everyone has a specific role to play and explain how everyone has an important gift that's vital to fulfilling God's purpose in their lives.  Pretty heavy conversation for bed time, and, of course, A is six, but I hope at least some of what I am saying resonates.  My goal is for her to realize that her worth isn't measured in her ability to wow an audience. 

A continues to lament her "lack" of performance talents, while I make a mental note to outlaw goofy talent shows at our house.  I stroke her hair reassuringly and joke about how Mommy could audition and wow the audience by writing on stage or about how Daddy could ride his bike.  After pointing out that Michael Phelps and Tyson Gay wouldn't make the America's Got Talent cut but will both probably win Olympic gold, I feel that I've adequately made my point.  By this time, I would have been rolling my eyes and begging my mom to leave the room, but A simply listens.  I tuck my sweet girl into her bed, turn out the lights, and walk downstairs, wondering when as a society we began transmitting the message to our children that the only talents that matter are those that bring fame, fortune, and worldly glory.  While strict about television viewing, it seems that even seemingly innocuous programming can deliver a negative impact. 

I mull over mine and A's conversation for several minutes and, as always, wonder if I said the right thing, too much, or not enough.  What message do I send in my own life about what I value as a gift, and what do I toss away as too insignificant to contribute?  I've not always valued my gifts of teaching and writing and have even joked on the blog about how I could never be Miss America because I wouldn't have a talent.  Ok, there may be other reasons I would never be Miss America like the fact that I'm married....  As A and I embark upon more time together in this homeschooling journey, I see the worth in passing on even more deliberately the kind of values that I want A to cherish and hope that she'll see the immense treasure in her own unique gifts and talents, even if those talents may never secure her a spot on a nationally televised talent show.  I hope she realizes that like A their impact for the kingdom is priceless.