Dear Birthmom,

Have you ever had a letter you wanted to write, but knew you could never send it? It would be too real, too raw, too vulnerable? What about talk to someone who is out of your life? Sometimes, I have so many things I’d like to say specifically to our daughter’s birthmom due to our unique circumstances. This is not a letter to any birthmom. I will share that letter soon.

Today is National Adoption Day and my spunky lil’ punkin woke up ready for Christmas. She has been a bright light all morning. She told us that to feel the Christmas spirit you have to stretch your arms out wide, take a deep breath, and spin. It is mornings like this that make me feel so blessed to have a chance to mother this tiny tornado, and wish I could talk to her birth mother.Christmas Spirt

Every year as soon as the first signs of spring appear, I start mentally preparing to write her birthday update to our birthmom; I carefully craft the letters and select perfect pictures to tell the story of her year. The first few letters came easily, I was just so grateful for this gift of an amazing child. But this last year I struggled more than usual. I always keep the letters light, warm, and open, but I have things I wish I could say to her.

Dear Birth Mother,

I haven’t heard from you since she was still in the NICU, the day you planned to come back to see her one more time, but never called and never answered a call or email again. How did you walk out of that hospital without her? She has your ears, you know.The first time I saw her yawn, I could see your mouth in hers.

She’ll lay in bed with me in the mornings and tell me her dreams. Her dreams of being a bear trainer and a circus clown, and I’m awed by your sacrifice that built my family. I want to call you or send a picture right that minute, hoping to catch the way joy sparkles in her with my clumsy iPhone camera. But just like my phone’s lousy ability to capture the truth of her beauty, a picture wouldn’t capture her spirit either. Although this video is one of my favorites.

Sometimes, I’m really angry with you. You put cocaine into her tiny body, and I couldn’t stop you. While they scanned for brain damage, I held her tiny head, frantic for her. Despite being premature and some early breathing difficulties, she seems alright, but tiny signs make me wonder. We can’t know the future battles she may face due to the alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs.

I also don’t understand not wanting to know her. I have emailed a few times, willing to keep communication open. Not one reply. There are moments that I feel like a mother is the one person who can celebrate all the tiny, insignificant, earth-shattering, wonderful things she does. Then, I wonder if you would understand, if you have that mothering instinct at all?

Or if that instinct is what encouraged you to give her away? Because you did bring her into the world. You gave her life. Not every woman would make that choice.

Maybe you’ve never answered an email because a single word to me would open a floodgate of regret. Maybe you have a hole in your heart, shaped just her size. I don’t want to remind you what you’ve lost. That’s why I stopped emailing so long ago.

Every time she calls me “Mommy” my heart wants to burst. The other day we were talking about her adoption and if babies remembering being born. I asked if she remembered her “real” mom. I don’t know why that word came out of my mouth, because I always use “birth” mom to describe you. Maybe it still doesn’t seem possible that she is mine. But, you know what, she looked right at me and said, “You’re my real mom.” And I am. I’ve been branded in snot, puke, poop, and hugs. I’ve played dress up and tea party, and had to discipline her when watching her chubby cheeks stained with tears was breaking my heart. I’m as real as it gets, but you’re still a part of her, too.

I try not to worry about how she’ll feel in the future. I don’t know if she’ll be more than curious, but I do know she will always have a hole in her heart for the people who gave her away. I pray I’m doing my job so well, it will be only a tiny thimble space of emptiness that won’t ever bother her. But I wonder if she’ll ever come looking for you. Will she turn toward your family, aching to know why you gave her away. Part of me doesn’t want her to need you, but I want to be OK with her loving you, too. Our hearts aren’t limited in how many people we can love.

I tell her that God always meant her for our family, that she grew in my heart as part of His plan for her. Yet, during those teen years, will she ever yell, “You’re not my real mom!” at me? I pray that she doesn’t ever feel like that, or even if she does, we’ll both know she didn’t really mean it.

Dear BirthmomToday is just another Saturday, even though we know it’s National Adoption Day. And I’m celebrating her and our family. Daddy made traditional Belgian waffles, so delicious they didn’t even need syrup. We’re gonna stay in our jammies until lunch time.

We’re having a pillow fight. We’ve never had one before. I handed her the pillow and walloped her. Her eyes got wide with surprise, she was allowed to hit me? Then the laughter started to bubble up bursting into huge giggles, dissolving into giant guffaws as we bashed and bonked, great reckless pillow fun.

And you’re missing it. You’ll never know how her tiny, baby chuckles could fill a whole room with laughter. You’ll never see her jaw drop in amazement when she learns something new.

When I write to you each year, I worry over ever word, wanting you to be happy you chose us to raise her, wanting you to agree that I’ve been the best mom I could be for her, but I worry you’ll judge her height and weight and wonder if I’ve been feeding her too much junk food. I worry that you’ll hate her haircut or the mural I painstakingly painted on her bedroom wall. I wonder if you’d approve of the deep faith she is developing. Then I think, you gave her up because you couldn’t take care of you, should your opinion matter to me? Two seconds later, I hope you’re doing alright and are making better choices.

And I have times, I wonder if letting her go left a huge hole in your heart, if there is anything I could say that would make it hurt less, feel better. You did the right thing. She has a stable home, a family that adores her, and close friends who practically live at our house.

She will ask lots of questions in the future, I’m sure. I know my feelings will change too. So for right now, this minute, I’m grateful but wonder if you know what you’re missing.

Adoption – Getting Started

If you’re considering adoption, getting started doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Here are a few tips based on our family’s journey.

Adoption – Getting Started

  1. Decide your time frame for really starting the adoption process.
    • We spent 2-3 months researching before taking the first step.
  2. During the research process, decide on a budget and financing.
    • Start saving money at first glimmer of choosing adoption to build your family.
    • Most agency adoptions cost between $20,000-40,000, you may be able to find the agency’s basic costs outlined online which will help you formulate a budget and choose an agency.
    • You can raise funds, get a loan, and expect a tax rebate.
  3. Research agencies
    • I googled ‘adoption agency’, researching every agency’s Better Business Bureau reviews, grades, and resolved/pending cases.
    • I googled ‘experiences with ____’ agencies. We eliminated any agency with negative experiences by verified customers.
    • Then I talked with an agency representative from promising agencies, read their literature and websites, eventually narrowing down the field and learning a lot.
    • If you have a local agency, make an appointment to talk to them. You may eventually go a different route, but we met with a few local agencies and learned a lot about the process and what type of adoption we wanted to pursue.

We got some information from a legal adoption network, more of a facilitator than traditional agency. Their basic costs, not including any potential birth mother living or health expenses were going to start at $48,000. We didn’t have that much saved, and we were determined not to start our family life in debt. Kids cost enough once they’re born! We told her we would get back to her.

In the meantime, she did give us the name of a social worker to complete our home study.

Adoption Getting Started A home study is the first real step in any adoption process.

We started gathering the massive amounts of paperwork required. A basic list to get you started:

  • birth certificates
  • marriage certificates,
  • bank statements
  • check stubs
  • social security cards
  • passports
  • driver’s licenses
  • divorce decrees if applicable
  • medical evaluations (for every family member, including pets)
  • letters of recommendation for each parent
  • drawing to scale of our home
  • pictures of the house

We finished gathering paperwork and preparing the house while we waited for our social worker to do our home visit.

Home Visit –

Each state has different mandatory standards adoptive parents must meet. Most are just good baby proofing. Then each agency can add requirements, and different social workers can interpret rules differently.

Basic Baby Proofing Steps:

  • Every outlet must be covered in those pesky plastic covers.
  • We had to have a fire extinguisher.
  • We had to install cabinet baby latches, and secure medications.
  • Outwards doors needed baby proof handles (yes, before we even applied to adopt), including the entry to the garage
  • Keyed deadbolts on front and back doors
  • Additional security for any pools or spas
  • A carbon monoxide detector

The home study seemed terrifying. Someone comes into your house and judges how you live and what type of people you are. He had to ask really personal questions about everything, like everything. Luckily, our social worker was friendly and really put us at ease.

Following the home study, we applied to an agency our social worker recommended. They were less expensive than the legal network and seemed friendly, had great testimonials, and lots of success stories.

Unfortunately, the FBI fingerprinting process was really lengthy as it was paper and ink, which prolonged the completion of our home study. Hopefully, the FBI process is faster and all digital by now.

Adoption can seem overwhelming, but try to keep it in perspective. Building a family isn’t about getting a baby, it’s about trusting God is bringing you the right child for your family.

Be patient, pray a lot, and take one step at a time. Don’t let the huge mountain seem scary, just do what’s on the to-do list for each day and let tomorrow take care of itself.

Matthew 6:34 ESV  “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

The patience you’ll learn now will be a good resource once you’re a parent, trust me, 😉

Master Weaver – trusting God’s plan in the chaos

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I’ve had lots of messy, hurtful times in my life: my husband’s combat tours, gossiping neighbors, financial struggles, marital tensions, infertility, health crises, times that felt like they were breaking me apart.

During those moments that felt like my world was breaking in two, I’ve held tightly to this promise.

Romans 8:28 ESV  “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

Because sometimes in the middle of it, I couldn’t see how. I’ve sat in the mess holding my heart in my hands wondering how God could possibly being doing any good.

God promises He uses all things for our good, but sometimes, we can't see how. We have to trust our Master Weaver. Click To Tweet

And then I would start to see the hints of God’s hand using those messes, and I pictured the weaving of Persian carpets, some of the most intricate, most beautiful in the world, woven together with absolute precision.

But in the middle of weaving, it is a bit of a mess. Strings hanging in random directions, lots of white threads, etc. Only the master weaver knows what the finished product will become, while we only see how perfectly the pieces fit together once each part is completed.

Life is the beautiful rug hiding in the mess of our trials and struggles. Trusting the Master Weaver for the beautiful life He is weaving in me.

I can’t always easy to see how the messy parts fit, but they always do.

April 2013, I had an arthroscopic hip surgery that was supposed to “fix” my hip. Instead, my hip was completely destroyed. After a total hip replacement in January 2014, I was recovering nicely, then dislocated my new hip. I had to spend 6 1/2 weeks in an immobilizing brace. Unable to sit up, lay down, drive, shower, dress, live in any easy way in that thing, I was STUCK at home. Frustrated, I couldn’t see how all the injuries, surgeries and setbacks could be part of God’s plan.

I wasn’t able to do anything!

Exactly what God wanted. He wanted me to stop running, figuratively and literally. SIT DOWN. Be still. Wait on ME.

So I spent months just being home, spending time with my daughter, focusing on my relationship with my husband and with God. It became an amazing time of dedicating my life to God and His highest ministry for me, raising my daughter and serving my husband through what I could be, not do.

My perspective on my purpose and my value shifted tremendously.

I can't always see God's plan in the chaos, but I can trust Him through it. Click To Tweet

During the difficult years waiting to be a mother, I cried, I ached, I got bitter before I turned it over to God. But if you gave me a chance to change it, I wouldn’t. God used every minute of the waiting.

He used that time to introduce me to my husband, to move me around the country, meet new people, to become the woman who was ready finally to be a Godly mother, raising my child for Him, not myself.

God gave me the absolute right child for me at the perfect time. He was teaching me to be patient, have wisdom and strength, and definitely, to be selfless in an entirely new way. I couldn’t understand why He wanted me to wait, but He was preparing me to be this tiny tornado’s mother. This child is a force of nature, and I had to wait for her to exist. I couldn’t have known that then and wouldn’t have missed mothering her for the world!

My struggles with infertility and our journey through adoption has allowed me to witness, minister, and support many women in similar situations. What a gift to be able to be a friend and sister in Christ in this way!

I think of all the young mothers I would never have met if I’d been a mother earlier, young women I can walk beside and support now, facing the same challenges, but as a mentor in Christ.

God has used our seemingly random moves in the military, but each was part of God’s plan in many ways.

In Texas, I met some women who truly changed my life, becoming sisters in Christ.  I cannot understate how important they have been to my life. They befriended me, supported me, helped bring me to a deeper walk with God, helped love me out of my shell, changed my life.

Also, our daughter was born there. Her birth mother chose us because she could meet us in person. God didn’t waste even the tiniest ripples of His hand.

Despite our struggles, the tiny ripples of God's hands in my life were never wasted. Click To Tweet

Then, again the army sent us away from all we knew. But it was here that I got to stay home and raise my daughter, play Candy Land instead of grade essays. Here, we found a new friends and an amazing church. Being here has absolutely grown me spiritually.

Right now, my husband and I are dealing with an assignment that is 16-18 hour days, 6-7 days every week. It is daunting for him, for me, for our daddy’s girl who misses him so, but God has been ahead of us, guiding our paths all along.

I can’t see why this might be the right place for our family, but I can trust God that it is. Surviving the storm together binds our hearts together in a way ease never did.

Surviving the storms of life strengthens us in ways that ease never did. Click To Tweet

I can rest knowing that God has a plan for my life.

Jeremiah 29: 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Many quote this verse from Jeremiah, but few put it into context.

This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease.  .   .   . 10 This is what the Lord says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place. 

God promises He has a plan, but it includes 70 years of exile.

Christians often cling to Jeremiah 29:11. We like to think it promises easy lives. However, God really promised that He was with them in exile. He had not forgotten them and had planned this for their redemption. He didn’t promise they wouldn’t suffer.

Can you look back at your life and see times the Master Weaver always had a plan? All the pieces in your life that seemed out-of-place but turned out to be part of the design all along. Maybe you’re in that period of difficulty right now and can’t see how all the pieces fit.

God doesn’t waste anything. Every struggle and joy are a part of His plan for your life, unique pieces of you He can use.

Remember, God sees the finished product, and He is making a beautiful and wondrous work of your life.

Ephesians 2:10 “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

So Master Weaver, sweet Abba Father, my hope is in Your complete plan for my life.

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Mother’s Day 2014

As a blogger, it can be hard to write about holidays or events on demand. I’ve spent all week trying to approach writing about Mother’s Day.

My entire blog is about being a Christian mother, and I covered a lot about becoming a mother in an earlier post, Seriously Harvard? that dealt with Samuel 1, Hannah’s story.

Plus, many of my friends are struggling this year with having lost a mother or a child, or never having been a mother in the traditional sense. I understand that pain.

Being barren myself, Mother’s Day has been hard for me for a long time. I’ve never even gotten to experience the tiniest hope of life growing inside of me. Part of my heart will always grieve that loss.

Happily, God’s plan was for me to be an adoptive mother to this wonderful little girl. My first mother’s day was the day after I met our precious baby girl in the NICU.

Mother's Day is full of perfect images, but we're imperfect and that's how God's plan works best.
Love at first sight

It wasn’t the way we imagined, but God’s plan was, as always, perfect. We got to spend a few hours with her in the NICU every day for a week, which prepared us to care for her enough that we felt a little less insane when they let us drive away with this tiny human.

I took responsibility for her. Every memory she will ever have, I will be her mother. The weight of that is heavy. I promised God that if He saw fit to make me a mother, I would raise this child for Him. I’m doing the best job I know how to do each day. Some days are better than others.

Proverbs 22:6 (ESV)

Train up a child in the way he should go;
    even when he is old he will not depart from it.

My Christian walk is blossoming, but the race is long, and I have much to learn about knowing which way to go myself. Motherhood itself is fraught with a million decisions a day, balancing needs and wants, instant solutions with long-term consequences.

Motherhood is a million decisions, balancing needs & wants, with forever consequences. Click To Tweet

Today, we were on our first mother-daughter bike ride. She got a big girl bike for her 4th birthday and is still learning to use coaster brakes.

After a tricycle, she is having a rough time adjusting to this new bike. Five minutes into our ride, she dissolved into screaming tears.

I will climb mountains, slay dragons, fight bears to soothe away her tears.

I tried talking her down, but she was using her tears to refuse to learn. On this undeveloped cul-de-sac, I decided to do what was best for her in the long run – let her get independent. I told her what to do, told her to catch up, and rode toward the circle at the end of the block.

Stomach in knots, I listened for her tears, but heard nothing. I started to turn to check on her, and she pedaled past grinning and laughing. “This is so much fun, Mom!” she shouted whizzing by, sparkle streamers waving in the breeze.

She hadn’t needed me to physically push her at all. She needed me to push her to leap into independence. We ended up riding 2 1/2 miles together up and down the empty roads, learning a lot and having a hot, sweaty, sunshiney, wonderful day.

But I had to think about who she needs to be tomorrow, her first days of school, the first time a bully pushes her around or a friend hurts her feelings, high school peer pressure, college.

Letting her cry for five excruciating minutes today, helped her find her strength and courage inside. I still feel horrible that she had to cry at all. I struggle with not feeling like all her tears are some sort of parenting fail on my part, but the reality is, she has to learn control over her own emotions and persevere when she faces challenges.

What I can do is teach her who God is, who He wants us to be, and who she is to Him. So we pray, we talk about making choices, we talk about God being with us all the time.

Sometimes, all I know how to do is to talk out loud walking through my learning how to be a Godly mother.

At the end of the day, and this one had parenting wins and failures, I have to do my best to be a mom, a wife, a woman of God, and a human being. My strengths and failures will be part of her story, part of what she brings to the Lord as her gifts and wounds. The bible is full of miraculous stories of broken people God made whole and used to create miracles.

The Bible is full of miraculous stories of broken people God made whole & used in His plan. Click To Tweet

Moses murdered someone and hid in the desert for 40 years, stuttered terribly and didn’t respond enthusiastically to God’s command to free the Israelites from Egypt.

King David had a man murdered so he could marry the pretty neighbor lady he impregnated.

But God perfectly used these imperfect men, and so many more. We don’t come perfect, we just need to surrender all. His glory is made more obvious in our weakness.

1 Cor. 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

So how do I train her up in the way she should go? Imperfectly, and demonstrate through my faults how I lean on Christ, so she knows how to do that someday as well.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you, whether you’re celebrating with your mother or missing her, an adoptive or foster-mother, have 1 child or ten, or are a mother in different ways as part of the body of Christ. I hope your day was blessed with joy, peace, comfort and laughter, even if peppered with tears. May God hold you and all you call family in His hands tonight.

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Don’t Make Your Brown Eyes Blue

God Above All Else Christian Strong Ladies Summer Tee Shirt Click To ShopBefore we adopted her, I had imagined our daughter in my mind. I’m sure biological parents do this as well. I had no idea what she would look like, but I hoped for my blonde hair, the light blue eyes my husband and I share. I knew she could be another ethnicity or look as different from me as night from day, but I had hoped I’d see myself in her face.

Before her, the greatest love I’d ever known were for my tiny niece and nephew in whose faces at only a few weeks, I could see our family traipse across every expression. I didn’t know how it would feel to claim a child that looked nothing like me.

Then we met her in the NICU of an Texas hospital 4 years ago tomorrow. She had a round face, a rounded nose, and the darkest of brown eyes. She didn’t look like me at all. Her hair is brown, and her skin is olive toned, browning the moment she steps foot into the summer sun, just like my skin turns an embarrassed shade of pink.

Raising my daughter to grow into her beauty the way she is as a person, not because of how she looks, but because of who she is. And I love every bit of her so ferociously. I love the single freckle on her cheek, the slightly red sparkle to her hair in the bright sunshine, the ticklish spot on her neck, her ‘outie’ belly button. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkle with life and light. My own seem pale in comparison. As she grows, so does her beauty, but the qualities that make her the most beautiful are her exuberance, unquenchable spirit, and indomitable joy. Her infectious laugh and insatiable curiosity fill every room. Somehow I love her all the more because she looks nothing like us, because she gets to write entirely her own story for us, none of that “she’s just like you were at this age” based on her DNA (although apparently the parental ‘I hope you have a child just like you’ curse works on adoptions, too).

But will she someday wish she looked like us? has she already and doesn’t have the words? She is already absorbing so much about the world. I worry if she will know how utterly beautiful she is because of who she is or will the media and playground bullies ever make her feel unpretty.

I came across an article yesterday (ABC News) about a doctor who has invented a laser process to remove the pigment from the iris, literally changing brown eyes to blue. While this procedure is not authorized or approved and could cause cataracts or glaucoma, my thoughts immediately went to my precious girl’s deep brown eyes and wondered if she would ever consider such a procedure as an adult. Would she risk her eyes to fit into some worldly version of beauty? I desperately pray that she never feels badly enough about herself to want to, but I know that very few women would describe themselves as beautiful. That some of the most naturally gorgeous women I know have told me they don’t feel attractive. I have always felt I’m pretty enough (post high school), but struggle with my weight.

Like my post from a few days ago, I know much of the parenting answer lies with me, the example I set about what beauty is and the way my husband demonstrates how he sees my beauty. I’ve taught her that she is beautiful because of her smile and heart. I try to say that we’re getting ‘fancy’ versus making ourselves beautiful when we fix our hair, but she sees me weigh myself, curl my hair, and put on jewelry.

We live in a society literally inundated with images of physical perfection. Even the kids on the Disney channel are model thin and picture perfect. Counteracting the multitude of messages she is getting won’t be easy.

But God is very clear about what He thinks is beautiful.

1 Peter 3:3-4 ESV  “Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious.”

Teaching her to find and cultivate her hidden person of the heart with imperishable beauty that is found in a spirit completely sold out for Jesus, has to be a large part of stocking her inner arsenal against the waves of lies the world is waiting to throw at her. Also, surrounding her with women who live this identity in Christ is crucial. Some of the women who attend our church are like this, so beautiful from Jesus just glowing through them. These are the women I want my daughter to know, to love, to see, to emulate, not necessarily be quite so caught up in physical beauty, but it’s hard. She’s cute. I love taking pretty pictures of her, putting her in frilly clothes, and need to make sure I’m not sending her confusing messages. Because God doesn’t really see any of those things.

1 Samuel 16:7b ESV “For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

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I wonder what I would think of her if I couldn’t see her face when she’s thinking, or her eyes sparkle in the sunshine when she is playing on the swings. If I could only see her behavior, would she seem as beautiful? Would I?

The world will judge our fashion sense, our bad hair days, our bodily imperfections, but only God sees with what we are truly made, and loves us from the inside out. He judges our hearts.

Proverbs 31:30 ESV  “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”

I think it is interesting that in just a few days, I’ve been meditating on what God wants from me, for me as a woman and parent, and I keep coming across verses that talk about how beautiful God finds the woman who fears Him, not as in afraid, but as in respects the righteousness and glory of our holy Creator.

Also, in those same few days, just my daily readings and perusals have brought answers to what God does not find beautiful. 1 Peter 3 talks about the outward appearance not being the source of beauty to God. In Isaiah 3, the wayward women of Zion are described as wanton, haughty, adorning themselves with necklaces, pendants, bracelets, scarves, anklets, etc.

The outward expression of who we are should be in our deeds of love and service to God and for one another; in that way we are made beautiful. I know that for me growing to understand how God sees me has made my own struggles with beauty and self-image grow fainter. The more I work on being truly beautiful in my heart as a Godly, gentle, loving woman, the less I care how the world judges the outside. But it took me 42 years to get to this place inside myself.

I don’t want her to ever waver from knowing where her true beauty lies, inside her heart and in the body that God knit together in her birth-mother’s womb. He gave her every feature, every strength, and every weakness so that she could become the beautiful work He has planned for her life and witness.

Maybe we should think in terms of “making ourselves beautiful” when we open the Bible, when we pray, when we choose to listen to God’s voice instead of our iVoice, when we fear the Lord and praise His name. Maybe then, she’ll make healthy choices to care for her body, but know that her beauty has nothing to do with medical procedures or iris pigment or body size. Beauty is in the quiet things between her and God.

Because the only eyes I want her to see herself through are her Heavenly Father’s eyes.

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