your father’s daughter
August 16, 2010
We lunched. We walked. We talked. Words of truth–of love–were spoken. And the dam within me burst. Though I had not known before that this great longing was there, I still tried to give words to my blubbering mess of a self. The best I could manage went something like this:
Much of my 30 years has been spent assuming I was supposed to keep trying to fit into a sort of mold that expectation seemed to demand. But I just don’t belong in that box. So when she spoke these powerful words, they cut to the deepest core of my being. And I wept as I just sat still with that longing to know that I belong somehow, somewhere . . . just as I am.
“You are exactly what your father raised you to be–he would be proud.”
Those were the words that were spoken.
Thanks be to God for the sweet voices He so kindly places in each of our lives, in the form of loving friends and family.