“I am for you.”
That’s what I tell my 12-year-old daughter after a long day and after we’ve flopped down onto the overstuffed blue couches to pray and to chat before bed.
It’s probably what I’ll be saying often for the next few years as she steps into the teen years.
Maybe it seems like some days I’m against her.
I tell her what she can’t have or what she can’t do. She carries home yet another flyer advertising yet another activity and I remind her that her calendar is already dripping with ink from her doing so much.
She talks about movies, books, songs, apps, and sometimes she’s the one left out. She doesn’t know that band. She hasn’t read that book. Maybe we won’t let her see that movie.
This is hard. This is her coming to grips with what it means not to fit in, what it means to…
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