happy birthday, sweet girl….

a birthday letter to my daughter—my prodigal…

dear sweet brown-eyed girl,

twenty-six years ago today, you made me a mom for the very first time.

when i held you in my arms that first time, i knew that my life would never be the same.

you looked up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, and i was overcome with a love so fierce that i knew there was nothing i wouldn’t do for you.

i knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that choosing to keep you was the right choice, the only choice, for me.

it was only you and me those first four years of your life, and though being a single mom was hard, i cherished that time that i had you all to myself.

your smile lit up a room, and from the time you could walk and talk, you were the life of the party.

just looking at you melted my heart and reminded me that there really is beauty in this ugly world.

the other day, i was going through some old boxes and came across the little white dress that you wore on the day i married your dad, the man who loved you and adopted you as his own.  as i held that dress in my hands, i could see you in it, all smiles and full of excitement as you stood at the altar and watched us say, “i do.”

on that day, i naively thought that life would always be as sweet and easy as it was right then.

but it wasn’t.

i spent so many years trying to convince you that i love you, and for a while, i think you believed it.

but by the time jr. high came around, the world had your attention and you were swallowing its lies, one by one.

you were convinced that us giving you boundaries and rules was a sign that we didn’t love you, and to you, all authority was against you.  little did you know, sweet girl, that it was the enemy who was against you, turning you against us, and claiming more of you each day.

by high school, you had so much resentment and anger within you, and you told me more than once that i had no place in your heart or in your life.  i can not tell you how those words stung, and how my heart would break each time i heard them.

in hindsight, i know now that it wasn’t me you hated so much as it was yourself.

from an early age, you believed that because your biological father rejected you that you weren’t worth loving.

i tried so often to convince you that God loves you with a love that is everlasting, and that he will never leave you.  but i honestly don’t think that you ever believed that. to be honest, if it came from me, you never believed it.  it was as if you didn’t believe or trust anything that came from those who loved you, and yet, you were so quick to believe the enemy and those who were out to hurt you.

the day you walked out on our family, you took a piece of me with you—-a piece that i’ve never gotten back.  a part of me died that day, and i’ve never been the same.

it’s been almost eight years since you left, and honestly, each year when your birthday rolls around, i mourn losing you all over again.  it’s as if i lost you to death, yet, i know you’re out there somewhere.

i pray for you every single day.

i pray that God keeps you safe and that he brings people into your life who will be the love of Jesus to you.  people who will sincerely care for you and show you that you are worth being loved.

but most of all—most importantly—i pray that you know Jesus.  he loves you more than i ever could, and he longs to be your everything.

i love you.  i will never stop loving you.

love,

mom