God Has No Daughters is done, one more time. I've finished the draft that I thought would be done last summer, and revised that one as well. I stayed up late Monday night because I was so close to the end and I was determined that it was finally time to be done. Then when the last page showed up on my screen, I didn't quite know what to do. I'm still a little stunned.
This child of my heart and soul began her entry into the world less than two years ago. The birth was as painful as any child-bearing. The growing pains have been significant. There has been joy and celebration and immense wonder. There have been tears and tears and tears.
She has been transformed from a clumsy toddler into a beautiful adolescent. One I'm ready to be away from for a while. One I'm ready to send into the world to make her mark. She is glorious and fractious all at the same time. Eager to leave the nest, and terrified to test her wings. One minute she's soft and gentle and wise, the next angry and stubborn and refusing to reveal any truth at all.
I found myself this last time adding commas and then taking them out, beginning to add a paragraph that I discovered I'd already written on the next page, reading and not having any idea whether it made sense or not. There were spaces of time when I hated coming to the book, hated that I'd ever started it, hated how much of me it consumed. Then I would surprise myself, she would surprise me, by being simply and gracefully the pure light of truth.
I have high hopes for her, and I will always love her in that special way that all first-borns are loved. But I'm aware that from this point forward, who she becomes is not so much in my control. I will certainly do my part to give her everything she needs to be a success, to be all that she came here to be, but her life is her own now.
God Has No Daughters. 323 pages. 60 chapters. 88,000 words, give or take. Who knows who she'll be in another year. I can hardly wait to find out.
I love you. I'm proud of you. Fly on strong wings my daughter. The sky is yours.
photo from Flickr