One of my favorite memories of my mother is a story she told me upon my coming home from the first day of seventh grade.  I felt very overwhelmed about junior high and all that was going to be expected of me. I had been placed in several advanced classes -- one was a math class where the teacher talked about doing research paper (at that time I didn't know what one was); most of my friends from grade school had gone to a different junior high, and I felt very alone. I remember coming home crying, just wanting to be with friends and wanting to be in classes that would be easier.

My mom had me sit on her lap, wiped my tears away and said, "Let me tell you a story that will help you think about it differently.  A pilot calls up to the control tower and says, 'I can't take off cause there's fog on the runway, and I can only see halfway down the runway.'   The man in the control tower calls back and says, 'That's okay, you can go ahead and take off.'  The pilot is a little more frantic and calls back up to the control tower and says, 'I said there is fog on the runway!  I can only see halfway down the runway!' The man in the control tower says again, 'That's okay, you can go ahead and take off.'  The pilot was very upset now and said, 'Don't you understand! I can't see the end of the runway, I can only see halfway down!' The man in the control tower calmly answers back, 'Yes, but when you get halfway down the runway, you'll be able to see clearly the other half.' "