EFY and sawdust in the eye

Kirsten is my beautiful, super-smart, talented, head-strong 15-year-old daughter.  I have lost many a night’s sleep over how to parent her; I simply was not like her as a teenager and have a difficult time relating. 

My older brother, on the other hand, should be able to understand her almost perfectly – I often tell my husband that Kirsten is Dave Number II and then call Dave and ask if he would mind me shipping Kirsten to him for a few months or years or whatever amount of time seems completely reasonable.

Overall, she is a great girl who has made excellent choices.  She reads her scriptures most of the time, says sincere prayers to her Heavenly Father, and has begun to show more respect to me and others as she matures.

Kirsten has practically unlimited potential and a will of iron that often refuses to bend, even if it’s clearly for her own good.   My constant prayer is that her strong will and intelligent mind won’t sabotage her happiness and success.

It’s difficult to lead someone who – at times -- has little interest in following.

Enter Especially for Youth, San Antonio.  A week-long church camp run by the Mormon Church designed to encourage teenagers to make responsible and moral choices, read their scriptures daily as a source of strength and inspiration, and have lots and lots of fun within limits that will keep them safe from destructive behaviors such as sex, drugs and alcohol.

A teenage girl with an uncanny resemblance to Kirsten climbed into our car at the end of the week.  She said things like, “I wish I could go to EFY every week for the entire summer!” and “Reading the scriptures was my favorite part of the week!” and “I want to go through my IPod and delete every single song that has questionable lyrics.”

She took notes in her journal during church the next day.

If a fingerprinting kit had been available to confirm her identity, I would have used it.

That was a month and a half ago.  Although Kirsten’s “EFY High” has ebbed and flowed a bit, her overall attitude and actions have remained positive.

Last week at a family reunion, a tiny piece of sawdust managed to lodge itself on the underside of Kirsten’s eyelid.  Every time she blinked or moved her eye, it felt like a needle was scratching it. 

We didn’t know what the exact problem was until the next day at the ophthalmologist’s office, but that night Kirsten was sobbing and in dire pain.  She asked for a blessing, showered, and lay down in the bed beside me. 

I was reading a book.

“Do you mind reading the scriptures to me, Mom?” Kirsten asked apologetically, as if I would think it an inconvenience.

I was embarrassed by the fact that my Book of Mormon was still in the travel bag.  I fished it out and started reading about faith in Alma 32 -- one of my favorite passages of scripture.

By the end of the chapter, Kirsten was asleep and I was quietly crying tears of humility.

Kirsten and I both have a long ways to go, but that night I was the one following her lead.