The woman who has inspired me most in my life isn’t really a woman yet.
She is my daughter.
In all my life, I have never known anyone like her.
She is so innocent, so caring, and so trusting. She loves with her whole heart and her whole soul. She trusts, even when she has no reason to trust. It’s just who she is, and her tender heart already bears more scars than I can stand to think about.
She is gentle and kind. Forgiveness lives in her spirit. No matter how many times I try to tell her that it’s okay to stand up for herself when others are cruel, she refuses. It’s not what Jesus would want she says. It’s not what Jesus would do, she says as tears roll down her face, broken-hearted that I would try to change who she is.
But I never could and never would.
I only want to protect her. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell the world to go away, but I can’t.
In her I see Christ. I see His Love and His Compassion. It seeps from every pore of her being, and I wish I could be like her.
This cruel world has beaten me, but it hasn’t beaten her and I doubt it ever will.
She gives me hope that true good remains. That true love and caring for our fellow man still exists, things I had long given up hope for before she was born.
She is my reason for believing that one day I might be able to see the world through her eyes and not my own. That I might see goodness where all I see is evil. That I might see hope where all I see is hopelessness. That I might see love where all I see is hate.
With her guidance, one day I will.