Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A Letter To My Almost 6 Year Old.

Dear Graycen,
    I remember being 12 years old when I started to blow dry my hair. By that age I had taken notice that all the pretty girls had perfect hair, and I wanted to have perfect hair too. I wanted to be a pretty girl. I was blow drying my hair one day and I looked down and it occurred to me that my legs looked a little too big. It was perhaps that day that I started to compare myself to other girls. In high school I was made fun of for so, so many things. Oh my love, high school can be such hard years. Here comes this dark haired, Italian, New York girl moving to sunny Florida with her now single mother.  Where blond haired, thin, tall girls were the norm, and well, I was just a broken hearted thing, suffering the damage of the divorce of my parents. It was then that I started to believe the lies. I needed to be taller. How do I get taller? I wanted to be thinner, and I guess I'll start dying my hair, and if only i could make that bump on my nose go away. Those thoughts grew with me. When i was old enough to start dating, boys were liking me for all the wrong reasons. I didn't quite know who I was, so what I offered was a watered down, broken version of myself that I was trying to alter along the way with box hair dye and endless amounts of trips to Walgreens for any makeup that I thought would do the trick. I went off to college and it got worse. I smoked loads of cigarettes and drank lots of alcohol and quoted lots of books, because my love, I was a confused, hurting young woman , lacking real truth in my life. I met your dad. We got married. We had a baby. You. You were perfect and beautiful, but I gained a lot of weight. I kept that weight on for four years. Darlin' don't let anyone tell you, 9 months on, 9 months off. I carried around extra baggage and tossed it about in my relationship with your dad, and he tossed it right back. I was loaded down. Then after the birth of your brothers, my body went and did the worst thing possible. It went and proved to me and the world what I had known all along. That it wasn't working. It went and made cancer. That was it. I was as damaged as damaged gets. And then something happened. I was beautifully broken. I was low as low could be. But I was being made new. I was being restored. See, yesterday we were in the car and Dune said his boo boo was better and I said that Jesus healed him and you said, "But He is always doing the repairing." My love, you understand what took me my whole life to understand and accept... we are a work in progress. 

At night, I cry and pray to God that you see what I have only now come to understand as truth in my life. That I am His daughter. I am made beautiful in Him. And you. You Graycen, are everything good. And you my love, you are made perfect in Christ and Christ alone. The world's idea has and always will be to alter, butcher, chop, purge, dye, fix, cover up, change, change, change. But the voice of truth, the voice of truth Graycen, tells you that you are perfect in Him. My daughter, you are everything good. I pray you know this truth. I see this picture in my head, you're a young lady, and you are comforting a friend, and you tell them something they may have never heard before, "You are fearfully and wonderfully made." 




You my almost 6 year old incredibly independent light in this world, you are wonderfully made. And that's the truth. 
 
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