There are many kinds of bravery.

My daughter holding her place in the line up of children on stage so she could still be seen as she sang out “We are all a family under one sky…”

A beautiful young lady fumbling at the piano.  Asking to start over, calling her teacher on stage to help, and smiling through to the end.  Cheeks hot pink with shame, she finishes with a grin and does not let her tears overwhelm her until she leaves the stage.

Do-bug’s dad turning to me as she goes and announcing with a grin and his yes welling up, “that made me cry.”  My relief when I can admit that I, too, am crying.

Admitting to my director that I made the wrong choice.  I should have asked her to change the rehearsal time so I could stay for my child’s entire school variety show instead of having to leave part way through to go to my own rehearsal.

Admitting to myself that what I really want is to be the mom who volunteers all the time at her child’s school, but I can’t be that mom because I have to work more hours than there are in the day.

Admitting to myself that that is a false statement.  I could make other choices in my life so that I could be that mom.  I could.   I could make those choices.

I could be brave by not admitting after the fact but by making the choice now.

I could be brave.

Just like Do-bug, just like her school-mate, just like her dad.

I could be brave.