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I may be biased, but Florida is an awesome place to live. We have sunny skies, beautiful beaches, and Disney World. We have space shuttles launching off our coast, a year-round summer, key lime pie, and awesome seafood (you have GOT to try the conch fritters!).
My phone buzzes in my hand and my heart begins to pound as I glance down and see the name on the screen. My cheeks flush hot and I feel the adrenaline rising in my chest. I don’t want to have this conversation. Please, not right now. It feels too hard. My heart aches while hot tears fill my eyes. I close them and whisper, “Lord, give me your strength. Help me stay calm. Show me how to love this person today.”
She is fancy. I am plain Jane. She puts her pinky out when she sips her tea. I gulp mine quickly in the morning so I don’t miss my chance. She adores tutus and frills. I am crazy about lounge pants. She isn’t some socialite in a faraway city; she is my daughter. How she arrived in this world so perfectly girly with a mama who doesn’t even know how to apply make-up, I’ll never know. But she’s mine, wild as she is.
A few weeks ago, I was complaining that I really wanted to bless a couple of women who were going through hard situations, but these women simply wouldn’t let me. “I keep sending little texts offering to bring them a coffee or a favorite diet drink, but they keep kindly rejecting my offers! What can I do?” I asked my girlfriends, exasperated. “Part of me wants to leave an anonymous note in all caps at their doorsteps saying, LET ME BLESS YOU!”