May this encourage you, dear sisters. You are not alone. You are not alone.
The following is a letter from a Father to his children
I am writing to you
because I want you to know what I am like and what I mean when I say
that I want you to live with Me
and dwell with Me.
I am writing for many reasons,
but most of all so that you will know that I am a God who loves His children.
I see you… your joys, your ups and downs…
I see it all, and if you walk away with one thing, let it be that I am a God who truly cares
for His children.
There is so much I want to say,
but let us start with love,
for my love for you was there at the beginning.
I created your inmost being.
I knit you together in your mother’s womb.
When I say that I knit you together in your mother’s womb,
do you know what that means?
Knitting involves weaving together— wrapping around—weaving in and out—and I created you in that same fashion,in that same manner.
The creativity and love that went
into forming you was my pure delight.
Picture Me, using my hands and crafting your DNA, forming your smile,
and establishing your laugh. I did that.
Do you see, child?
Only I know your pulse.
Only I held your heart in my hands. Only I started it, and only I know best what makes it soar.
I knew which limbs you would have or not have. I knew which disabilities would be allowed,
and I fashioned a special heart
and temperament to go with them.
Please understand, dear one…
I make no mistakes—none.
I never make a mistake when
it comes to crafting my children.
Wisdom was at my side,
and you are her hard work as well. She sits and delights in watching you.
You delight us all to no end.
Picture us, child;
picture us watching you laugh, dance, reason, debate.
We love it all.
For you are beautifully made.
Don’t you see, child? There is beauty in you. You are the beauty we behold.
You, child, are a rarity, a valued gem. You must see yourself this way.
Many will come at you,
telling you otherwise:
that you will amount to little; that you were a mistake, flawed; but what do they know?
Did they create you?
Did they hold you in their arms
and kiss your face before you were born?
That time in the womb was my time with you.
For you were first my child,
and I held you first before anyone else could. I loved that time with you.
Hear Me, dear one; I loved that time with you.
I marveled at you.
I let you wrap your little hand around my finger and kissed your little feet as they formed.
I held you, dear one.
I held you before you were born and marveled at my work.
Picture Me gazing at you,
in awe once again of your beauty and perfection.
You, child, were crafted with so much attention, with so much detail.
You, child, are without flaw.
Me when I say that.
I do not make a mistake.
You are without flaw.
You, my child, are the apple of my eye.
Do you understand all that this phrase means?
It means that wherever I am looking,
you are in my vision.
From east to west I cast my glance,
but you, my dear one, are never out of my sight.
I give you my utmost care, my utmost attention. I am always here for you.
I am always here—hand outstretched.
Come, my dear one,
for there is more I want to share.
This is an excerpt from Dwell: 30 Letters from a Father