My oldest daughter had seminary graduation last night—the first of many ceremonies taking place in the next couple of weeks commemorating my firstborn’s end of childhood and beginning of adulthood.
She was asked to conduct the meeting, which she is convinced I finagled her into.
I assured her I had nothing to do with it. The stake president acted on his own inspiration, or desperation, or retaliation, because I have a stake calling and I’m often a thorn in his side.
However, I did give Madi valuable coaching about how to properly conduct a meeting: “Avoid common word whiskers like ‘like, umm, ya know’ and ‘K.’ Pretty much avoid any verbiage you use to text or talk to your friends. Look out at the audience, don’t fidget, keep your hands off your face and out of your hair. Please, please, please, pull back that dangly chunk of bangs that constantly flops over your face with a clip, or a bobby pin, or glitter gel even, just something!”
“Mom, stop. I know what to do.”
She did, except for the dangly bang thing. But as row after row of teenagers crossed the threshold of the chapel to receive their diplomas, I saw lots of dangly bang flopping, so at least I knew I was in the company of many other silent suffering mothers in the audience picturing a pair of sharp trimming shears. I even saw one mom’s hand tensely form into scissor fingers in her lap as her mangy son performed a vigorous head flip to sweep his hair out of his eyes just as he shook hands with the stake president.
It was a lovely meeting.
Madi and all her friends looked so grown up, that is until we asked them to pose for a picture together and we were reminded they are definitely young adults.
I’m so grateful for the seminary program.
I’m so glad that when my kids are away at school, for at least of portion of the day they get to be reminded of what life is really about, despite what happens in the media, in the halls, on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, or their cell phones.
This generation is stronger than mine was.
They have to be.
The world they’re headed out into is way nasty.
But they’ll figure it out.
I have faith in you, my precious daughter and fellow comrades of the Seminary Class of 2013. As you head out to conquer the nasty world even with floppy bangs in your face, I sing to you from my theme song, “Oh, youth of the noble birthright, Carry on, carry on, Kari On!”