As fourth grade winds down, I think that Ariana would have mixed reviews of her year.  Her teacher, Mrs. Sanderson, has been nothing short of fabulous.  But each day when the recess bell rings, a feeling of emptiness fills the heart of my sweet 4th grader.  Girls who she once thought her friends now, at best, purposefully exclude her from their play and, at worst, say hurtful, hateful things.

Her needs are simple and her request, just one.  She just wants a friend.  A real, honest to goodness, BFF.

I longed for the days when I could make the hurt go away with a Hello Kitty band-aid or a simple kiss.  I prayed for guidance to know how I could help Ariana not feel so lonely … how I could help her find a friend.

The answer to this prayer came unexpectedly …

A few weeks ago, Ariana came home from school, shoulders drooping from the weight of her backpack and the events of the day.  Oblivious, I started in on my usual boot camp drill sergeant routine.  But, with tears streaming down her face, Ariana waited for a pause and quietly said, “Mom, I have such hard days at school, I have no friends, and then I come home and you immediately start in on me, too.”

Suddenly, she wasn’t the only one with tears streaming down her face.

I had, at that moment, some sense for what Joseph Smith must have felt when he read in the Bible from James 1:5. “Never did any [declaration] come with more power to the heart of [a mother] than this did at this time to mine. It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again.” (JS History 1:12)

Be the BFF.  That was my answer.

In the words of President Monson:  “It is in the home that hope is fostered or destroyed.  Our homes are to be more than sanctuaries; they should also be places … where the storm stops at the door, where love reigns and peace dwells.”  (October 1999 GC)

The storm stops at the door.  I love that.  And I want my children to feel that … to know that, no matter what kind of day they’ve had, no matter how friendless they feel, I am their BFF and that when they are home, they are safe.

Sadly, the reality is that my kids still do far too much time on the naughty spot for petty crime … for things that I should be much more patient about.  Vivi was sent there this morning because I took offense at how she asked for a peanut butter sandwich.  But, in the few moments that I’ve spent writing this, I’ve had several occasions when I could have lost my cool with my kids and didn’t.  Progress?  I choose to think so.