This post is in response to another's post on a literary agent's blog. The writer is obviously hurting as her eldest son, born to her when she was young and unmarried, is a drug addict who has also been in jail. Nevertheless, she mentions her two younger sons, born into a wonderful marriage, who give her much joy.
I do not wish to add to her hurt, but I want to release mine in reading her excerpt. This blog is as good a place as any.
Children, born to young mothers who then get another mate and 'produce' half siblings, ~ right, wrong, good, bad -whatever~ often feel like the discarded souvenirs of a parent's trip down a road they wish they'd never taken. A path, had the parent not taken, would erase the child's very existence.
That is a gaping insecurity which no amount of parental love can cover or complete. Only a growing understanding of God's perfect, loving, compelling purpose for each of our lives, gives significance, that each of us were meant to live, to be, to hope. Despite my heritage I can dwell in assurance, confident that I too have a place 'numbered among the stars'.
2 comments:
Wow... Painful, but well said. Isn't God good... a Father to the fatherless...
There just aren't words, my friend. Very powerful words..."discarded souvenirs". I hate that life produces so much hurt, especially for those who did nothing to deserve it.
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