Strangely enough, I identify with Meadow.

I am never sure how much of my history to share and how it should be phrased, out of concern for my parent's feelings and a desire to honor them.
Their story is part of mine.
Our lives and choices are inextricably linked - intertwined - part of my make up, my development, and the way I have come to view the world.
For better and for worse, I know no way around that reality.
It is the nature of family.

Their marriage ended when I was 11 and their problems began long before that.

As is likely the case in many divorces, there were a period of years (essentially the rest of my childhood) that were extremely turbulent, while my mom and dad were quite absorbed in finding their way as newly single people - sorting out what they wanted for the next chapter of their lives after 16 years of marriage - relishing the new found freedom and release - mourning the loss and the end - working to heal from the wounds they inflicted upon themselves, upon one another. Romantic relationships began for each of them - some ended, some continued. A new family was formed for one of my parents. I was not, and am still not, one of the members of the new configuration.

And there are definite scars. Deep feelings of inadequacy and being unworthy of parental time, attention, devotion, and even love. Children just don't know how to process and understand the intricacies of complicated adult relationships. They take it all on themselves and personalize - they absorb blame that isn't theirs. They believe if they had just [fill in the blank] everything could have been better, right, as it should be.

Even in my mid 30's, when I fully know better, those deep seated beliefs about myself that began as a child are sometimes hard to chase away. They crop back up from time to time, usually prompted by something circumstantial.

Like my recently adopted daughter's own feelings of unworthiness.

I really get that. What she is saying. I have not been in her shoes, but definitely, I understand, to a degree, the emotions she expresses.

I think about how to help her, what to say, what to do, where to turn, how to behave so she can become certain, to the very depth of her young being, that she is treasured.
And I recall my own path.

God loved me, when I thought myself unlovable. He put me back together, when I thought myself irrevocably broken. He accompanied me, when I thought myself unworthy of His time. He met me in the dark moments, when I truly thought myself deserving of abandonment. He became my companion. He healed my broken heart. And, He continues to heal my heart. Every time it breaks.

He taught me to trust and to lean and to rely and to give unreservedly looking to Him as the Source of my fulfillment, the One who will give back to me, limitlessly, the One who doesn't tire of me, the One who won't decide He wants something, someone else for Himself. He wants me. Always.
He delights in me.
I am Loved by The King.

He gave me new life. And it is full of hope and abounding love.

Her story is entirely different, her journey is not mine.
But I know, without a doubt, He will do the same for my daughter.
The lovely, worthy Miss Meadow.
He delights in her.
And I do too.
She is Loved by The King.
And by me.

I will lead her to Him.