Who am I?

I joined coworkers at a restaurant to celebrate Emily, a fellow employee of six years, who is moving on. After an hour of leisurely conversation about the Federal Reserve Bank, our children, and the Boston Red Sox, my supervisor, Eleanor, stood up and spoke words of life to Emily. After Eleanor finished, others kindly spoke of their appreciation for her service. I was thinking of what to say about Emily. Some called her special and talked about the pleasure it was to work with her. Others talked about how she is so dedicated to her work. Then everyone looked at me; it was my turn, so I said, “Emily, we have known each other for a very long time. What I admire about you is that at the same age as me you seem resolved with whom you are. You aren’t like most young women our age, who are still trying to figure out ‘Who am I?’ You are comfortable with who you are and you exude that. You are not trying to be more, but are confident in who God has called you to be.” I felt a lump swell in my throat; those words felt real to me. And that’s when I realized that the other women that I was talking about, who are trying to figure themselves out, that I was one.
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