You know I hate it when you look at me like that.

You know the look, the one where I can see it in your eyes: I'm overweight and I walk funny and sometimes my words don't come out right, and I'm a fashion disaster and I play a dorky instrument and I have dorky dreams and I'm not very bright... and oh did I mention I'm overweight? I see it in your eyes as clear as a mirror. I'm beneath you.

But I wonder... do you know that sixteen only lasts a moment on the eternal hourglass? It's only one grain of sand. And I wonder... when sixteen is over, will you still look at me like that?

Will you still look at me like that when I wear a black and gold robe and hold a degree in my hand? My mentor won't. She'll wrap her arms around my waist and she'll try not to cry but she’ll cry anyway, and she’ll hug me tight and tell me she knew I could do this. And I don't care how you'll be looking at me, because she'll have all the pride in the world in her eyes, all for me.

Will you still look at me like that on my wedding day? My best friend won't. She'll be right there beside me in the bathroom, trying to get me to stop crying so my mascara will stay on, but she'll be crying so hard she won't be able to finish a sentence. And just before I say "I do," I don't care how you'll be looking at me, because I'll look over at where she is sitting behind her harp, and I'll see in her eyes that I am beautiful.

Will you still look at me like that when my beautiful children are running around my backyard? My husband won't. He'll laugh with me and cry with me and lead and guide me as we do our best to hold up the sky. And in moments like this one where the world is at peace, he will hold me tight against his chest and kiss me softly and tell me how much he loves me. And I don't care how you'll be looking at me, because I'll look up into his eyes and see all the love I can possibly imagine.

Will you look at me like that in my dying moments? My Father in Heaven won't. When my husband and children and grandchildren and friends try to remind each other of various bits of wisdom I had imparted to them, when stories of my life are shared among those I loved, and I see before me all the good I have done, I will be led by the arms of His love to my mansion above. And I don't care how you'll be looking at me, because when I look into my Savior's eyes, I will hear two simple words, "Well Done".

Do you really think your petty sixteen-year-old antics will matter then?