I know what you’re thinking, that I’ve been a daughter my whole life. That I’m thirty three years old (but I look like I’m twenty…thank you, that’s so kind of you to say) and I was someone’s daughter the day I was born. Even before that, really.
And I agree with you. I am Rick and Ruth’s daughter. I am their oldest daughter, their guinea pig, their first foray into the world of parenting. I have always been a daughter, always had parents. Probably like you have. But this year has been chaotic in my parent’s marriage. It has shaken me to my bones, made me question what and who I was. It has made some roles change, some hard conversations happen, and some dreaded things come to be. It has been stressful and sad and heartbreaking to watch, to be a part of, to feel and live.
I have questioned who I was and what would become of me this year. Even as an adult with a family of my own, I questioned who I was in the context of my parents relationship. Nothing makes you feel more child-like than having parents in turmoil. I’m not at a place where I can look back at it yet, not at a place where I can share lessons and encouragement and hope. I’m still in the thick of a mess that doesn’t seem to have an end.
But what I’ve learned in the past few months through tears and prayer and heartache and more questions than answers is that I am a daughter. I’m a daughter to Rick and Ruth. Nothing can change that, I will always and forever be their daughter, no matter what happens. I love them and they love me, even if it’s hard and messy and imperfect. 2014 showed me in a powerful way that I am a daughter.