Far Above Rubies

Lately I've been hanging out a lot at the soccer field, primarily watching women's and girls' games. I love seeing these fantastic women striding confidently around the field, wisps of hair escaping from ponytails to stick to hot faces, bodies free of jewelry. I love the thick shin pads on their strongly muscled legs; I love the cleats with their clods of grass and dirt; I love the voices of the women, roughened with exertion, as they call out to their teammates.

Perhaps it's a backlash against the glossy Photoshopped fake women that smile out at me from magazine covers, but I can't help thinking silently, "Ah...... now these are women." They're not skeletons, living on a pretzel a day in order to meet society's expectations. They're not airbrushed, Botoxed, siliconed, malnourished objects whose heads (complete with extensions) outweigh the rest of their bodies. These local, average soccer players are moms, friends, wives, sisters. They're the girls behind the counter at Wal Mart... theirs are the voices on the local radio station... they teach our children in school... they're the ones who pour our coffee in Tim Horton's.

I love knowing that my girls are going to grow up in this small, rural northern town. I love standing on the sidelines on game days, watching my own daughters get breakaways, their faces intent, their self-confidence soaring as they take a shot on goal. Isn't it wonderful? I look at my daughters' teams and think, "Here are the women of tomorrow."

Whatever it is that your daughter excels in, encourage her. One day, maybe I'll hear your daughter playing the piano at the Chan Center in Vancouver. Maybe she'll perform my hip replacement surgery, 50 years down the road. Maybe I'll totter over to her veterinary clinic with my sick Teacup Poodle. (Okay, maybe not that one.) Perhaps we will watch her dive, or sprint, or win the long jump during the 2020 Olympic Games. Maybe your daughter will grow up and teach my grandchildren grade 7 Socials. Maybe she'll be the one who offers me her seat on the bus.

My hope for my daughters is that whatever they turn out to be -- a dentist, a hairdresser, a tree planter, an obstetrician, a stay-at-home mother -- whatever it is, that they will love what they do, and do it well. I want them to go out into this big world with the belief that they can do anything, be anything, and love themselves for it. I don't want them to be hindered by society's expectations on them, or even by my own expectations. I want them to be free to do, and be.

Is it possible, in this crazy world?

I think so.