She is someone's daughter

Perhaps it is because I am a teacher and a mother and a woman that was once a girl, that I see every girl-child as my own. I feel proud of every girl's accomplishment. I want to shield every one of them from the folly of youth and the apathy of adulthood. In Cinderella, I am the fairy god-mother. In Snow White, one of the benevolent dwarfs. In Sleeping Beauty, I am the good witch. In the Wizard of Oz, I am the house that falls on the Wicked Witch of the West. At work, I do my best to educate our girl-children and, every now and then, I watch the media and see other people's children make a mess of things and wish I could wave a magic wand and make it right. There are girls with a magical talent that makes them shine and then crushes them under the weight of fame, like the Sea Witch from the Little mermaid, stealing Ariel's voice and leaving her ordinary and lonely.

I am shocked by what I see and even get a little judgmental. But then I remember, we're all someone's daughter. Someone held that little girl in their arms and wished for her all the good things in life. Then their wish was granted, and their pretty young thing became a star. Loved by many one day and ridiculed the next,
she remains their little girl.

At 19, I was that girl. I guess I would have done anything for attention and a spot in the limelight. Reality grounded me. God saved me. Education taught me. Love rescued me. Life was kind to me. I survived my youth unscathed. So when I look at that little girl, gyrating her hips and embarrassing herself on such a grand scale, all i can think of is that someone or Someone is waiting for her to come home. And when she does, I hope we will all have the grace to forgive and recognize in her beautiful voice the gift that she is to the world.

Abigail and I love listening to songs on the radio. She knows more of them than I do, now, but we each have our favourites. When our song comes up, we dance in the car like it's nobody's business and we sing, loud enough to drown out the traffic. Mylie's "We can't stop" is such a catchy, cool pop song, that at first I missed the vulgarity. The line that made Abigail stop and listen was "We can do what we want to".

"Is that true?" she asked.

"Wh..a...t?" I screamed out of breath and struggling to hear (the music was so loud).

"Can we do what we want to?"

I turned the music down. Well, I answered, I can just stop the car, get out of the van, turn up the volume and dance in the street. You CANT. I can. Mom, YOU CAN'T. That would be SO embarrassing. But I can do what I want to. You can't. So you just answered the question.

Mylie Cyrus when she was 8,
Abigail's age

Sometimes, children figure it out. Sometimes, they need our guidance. They always need our love. They always need grace.

I hope we can extend that grace to someone else's daughter.