Strong Enough

My mom always seemed to have a disproportionate amount of glee when we went to meetings like the Young Women's General Broadcast when I was growing up.  She'd proclaim, "It's so wonderful to go with my girls."

Whatever.

Then my girl was old enough to go.  I felt like my mom.  (A girl can dream.)  I kept telling Emma how great it was to go together.

I could tell by her expression, Whatever.

Inside the dim chapel, I snuggled up to Emma because I was cold and her hands are always warm.

We listened to music and inspirational talks and soon my arm was around her shoulder and she was tilting her head next to mine.

My girl.

She's so funny and smart and strong.  (Seriously strong...I know because my arm was around her muscular shoulder.)  Is she strong enough?  For when it really counts?

During the meeting, I wanted to shake her...are you GETTING THIS?  Are you listening?  Are you understanding?

Because it matters to me more than I can tell.

This girl, the one who has a certain disdain for most books I recommend or really, suggestions I make in general, who is independent and self assured in a way I never was...this girl, terrifies me.


Because it matters to me more than I can tell.

I want her to be happy.  I want her to choose wisely.  Choose correctly.  I want her to continue to be strong and courageous.  I don't want her swayed by influences beneath the glorious potential she has.  And in the same way I could not convince her to like Mary Janes when she was five and I can not get her to read the books I loved when I was her age, I know I am not in charge of Emma Jayne.  She was gifted by One who is wiser than me with freedom of choice.  She has to make her own decisions.  She has to resolve for herself whether or not to follow the lessons she has been given.

And that, I've decided, is a magnificent thing.

Because that process will only make my strong girl stronger.  (At least that's the star I'm hitching my wagon to.)