A Note about Raising Girls

We celebrate three birthdays within eight days in the second half of January. I love raising girls. I consider it one of the greatest joys and one of the greatest callings of my life. There are days I’m convinced I’m blowing it entirely, then there are other days when I get glimpses of my girls growing into thoughtful and bright young women. Hope yet.

There are days of endless laundry and talking them down and building them up. There are days of exhaustion and feeling like nothing I do is making one lick of difference. One of my daughters is set on becoming President. I tell her to hurry up because this country needs her. I cried hard after the election and I’m still not at peace about who our country’s current leader is. Hope yet. The #MeToo movement is strong. Women are marching and my daughters are getting older.

I pray my messages are getting through to my girls—lessons like be brave, stand up for what you believe, kindness matters, think before you speak, your worth is and never will be in what others think of you, your life matters…

More than that, I pray I’m modeling all of the above for them. Because that’s the best way to transfer a message.

So I push through the dark days. I fight through the monotony. I refuse to give up if something matters to me. I forgive. I love. I support other women. 

Hope yet.

{The birthdays wiped me out...I will be back here blogging on Feb. 5th.}