As I was preparing to write my response, I reread your letter. Tears pricked my eyes as I read through your scars: your sister teasing you, your friends abandoning you when you were 10--ugh! I ache that you had to endure that.
We all have them. Scars.
I bet every woman reading this could share deep, painful, scars from her youth. I know I can.
Scars. Even the word is ugly, isn't it?
Scars become part of us.
We carry them around.
They are part of what makes us who we are.
And, for better or worse, scars influence the way we parent our daughters.
Before Brad and I knew the gender of our girls, I remember thinking:
I'm not sure I can mother girls. (I think I might have even prayed for boys).I have three sisters--I know girls, yet I wasn't sure I wanted one of my own. My reason?
Hop on over to Melissa's to read the rest.