Dear Brooke… A letter to my daughter on her first day in India

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Dear baby girl,

I know this is hard. Your first day in India. Your first day seeing anything like this- ever.

As I look at these two pictures, taken only days apart. So different.

One so comfortable. One so not. 

I knew this would be a stretch, babe, and I knew this would not be easy. I knew what your eyes would see, even when you had no idea what was coming.

Give it time.

Give it time. Not time to make this yours. The zeal I have for these humanitarian workers and this country doesn’t have to be yours.

There is plenty of room here to be you, but give yourself space to be uncomfortable. To be rattled inside.

I think of how different our conversations have been today as you wrap your head around the poverty these children grow up and what life looks like for them just because of where they are born. Think, dear child, these talks- our talks- would have been missed if we hadn’t taken this trip.

(Oh I wonder, dear sisters, what our children miss because our lives have so few uncomfortable moments)

I write to you, my Brooke, because  I see you struggling. I see you.

I want you to know that I see you wrestling in this place and that is just fine…. just fine, dear one. If I seem quiet it is not because I do not love you but rather I am leaving room for your thoughts- your emotions.

 And yet that is not the only reason I write. I write for my heart. To keep it real and honest and open, for it would be very easy to portray to this world  how perfect this time is- us laughing and loving  our time here, caring for the poor and those in prostitution- super mother- daughter duo, and that is simply not the case.

That is simply not the case.

(funny how we do this dear sisters, we fill in perfect when we know it’s not. Oh, we may never say that with our lips, but that’s exactly what we do. With our tweets- our posts- our pics- we tell a half story that stays silent when it comes to fights or tears or meltdowns. Do we not?)

So, I write for me too, dear one, to say the last few days have not been easy. Nope they have not…. and that’s okay.

I am along for this ride, this India adventure- this life adventure- with you dear one, whatever it looks like… whatever it looks like…


…. isn’t that what God does for us?

It’s as if I can hear him whisper as I lay in this bed in this little hostel in the middle of Mumbai;

Child, I am along for your life adventure.

Whatever it looks like…. I am along for the ride. 

I love you my Brooke,





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