We don’t see eye to eye on some things—deep, foundational things.
She’s 16 now, standing stubbornly in her beliefs, making choices I don’t always understand and can’t fully support. And that’s hard.
There are moments I want to step in, correct, redirect—do what moms are wired to do. But what I’ve learned is that some things can’t be controlled. They can only be prayed through.
Still, through it all, she comes to me.
For help. For guidance. For those big projects that require more than just ideas—they require trust.
And in those moments, I remember: relationship first, always.
Three years ago, things between us were fragile. She was angry, distant, and I was still learning how to parent through pain. But time—slow and sacred—has softened those sharp edges.
Now she’s healing. And so am I.
She’s learning some hard life lessons too—about how money works, how choices come with consequences, how the world isn’t always as kind or simple as it seems at 16. Her eyes are opening little by little, and I can see it.
She’s decided to run for a countywide student leadership position. Only two are chosen in the district, and she wants to be one of them.
She didn’t need my permission.
But she asked for my help.
And I’m showing up.
Not to control the process.
Not to fix the message.
But to support her, guide where I can, and pray the rest of the way.
She’s spreading her wings, and even with all our differences, I couldn’t be more proud of her courage.
Most mornings now, I wake up and just thank God:
For the strength to hold steady.
For the grace to speak less and pray more.
For the restraint to let her become—while trusting that what we’ve planted will grow in due time.
And for the quiet repair He’s doing behind the scenes, one moment at a time.
We’re close again. Not in the same way we once were, but in a new, tested way.
And honestly? That feels like progress.
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