My girls' birthdays are only four days (and two years) apart. For the past few years, we've celebrated on or around their March birth dates. But this year, our family traded in our usual one-weekend-after-another separate celebrations for a last-day-of-school, hot summer night, everyone-piled-into-the-yard-and-by-the-fire-pit-and-into-our-basement kind of celebration. And it was glorious.
I watched and listened to and heard an absolute gaggle of girls -- some of whom I've known since their chubby fingers wrapped around thick crayons as they learned to write their names and thank-you notes and stories, tongues sticking through pursed lips, brows furrowed, smile and eyes lit at success. And others I'm just getting to know -- learning what that laugh or this look means. And in that watching and listening and hearing, I was overwhelmed. With their noise and their movement and their talking, yes. But also by their goodness.
And if it wouldn't have been a horrid interruption of their night, here's what I would've said to them by the light of the fire or the stars or the movie.
To the ones with the loudest laugh, the first joke, the cleverest of responses, keep using your voice and your humor. A laugh that can be picked out in a crowd is a gift.
To the athletes, the enviable ball spikers and the perfect handspring executors and the swift runners, keep at it. Strength comes in many forms, and this is one of them. Own it.
To the joiners, you're absolutely right -- why not you? Confidence makes the world go 'round, and you've got it. Hold on tight. It belongs to you.
To the storytellers, keep talking and telling and weaving. It's your story, so tell it. You're the only one who can.
To the quiet ones in the back, I see you. You are understated, and you are important. These things can -- and do -- go hand in hand.
To the whip-smart ones with all of the answers, you keep flexing those muscles. A smart woman can make the world go 'round.
To the caretakers, you have it just right. We are meant to take care of each other.
To the ones with the dirty feet and the abandoned shoes, Who needs shoes anyway? Don't be afraid to get dirty, to be you, to get the most out of every moment. It's true what your mom and I say -- it does all go by so fast. Grasp the moment, the dandelion, the grass, and skip the shoes.
To the leaders, the ones who ran the show and organized the games and kept everyone moving along: That's called leadership, and it's a coveted skill. Anyone who calls it anything different (and negative) is wrong.
To the ones who led by example, followed the unwritten rules, made sure that everyone got their fair share, this, too, is leadership. It's quiet, but powerful and just as coveted.
In so much of life, women demand different and change of ourselves and of each other. Not enoughs and shoulds and shouldn'ts slip between our lips all too easily and quickly. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not popular enough. Too pretty, too smart, too popular.
But what I learned from watching a group of just-out-of-school tweens on a hot summer night is that right here and right now, they have the exact right idea. So the thread in my prayers for tween girls -- the understated ones and the caretakers and the athletes and the jokesters -- is this:
Trust yourselves and your instincts and your goodness.
Allow input from the world to do nothing but build on what is already pretty amazing -- you.
And see how each of your shines doesn't dim the others.
My prayer for you is to keep being exactly who you are.
This article was first published on Galit's blog, These Little Waves.
Galit's book, Kindness Wins, is a simple, no-nonsense guide to teaching our kids how to be kind online. This prayer is a big part of this teaching.
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