Being Her Mom Instead of Her Friend by Elisabeth K. Corcoran

My daughter is fourteen.  Fourteen is a tough year, if you recall.  She and I joke that fourteen and forty are difficult emotional ages, so we're riding the feelings roller coaster together.  

She's a bright, beautiful, creative, hilarious girl, and she drives me crazy and I love her to death all at the same time.  But right now, she's struggling a bit.  I can tell that she can tell something's off but she can't put her finger on it, so I stepped in on her behalf.  I had this picture in my mind of her sort of free falling, arms flailing.  And I felt as if God were telling me to be the one to hold her tight, to give her security and a safe place to land.

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