How the Seeds We Plant in Others Sometimes Bloom When We Need Them Most
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There are days in a rebuild when you still do not completely trust your own reflection.
You may be getting up and doing the work. You may be inching your way back toward health, toward purpose, and at least a piece of the woman you know is still in there somewhere. Some days, it’s lost momentum and old shame. The private voice that asks who do you think you are to speak of healing when you are still healing.
Then a message arrives with such amazing timing.
A message came in from a young lady I love like a daughter.
My daughter had introduced us years ago. Back then, this young woman was in her twenties. Beautiful, wounded, trying to find her footing in a world that had already taken too much from her. She was carrying the damage that does not always show on the surface: abuse, loss, and the long erosion of a woman’s sense of self. The agony shows up in posture, choices, and what a young woman thinks she has to settle for.
I have always had a soft spot for women carrying more than anyone could see. I remind her she is not what hurt her. You hand her back a little courage, a splash of confidence, and a taste of a life she may not yet…
