My youngest daughter is so much like me.
There’s this fieriness to her, this loudness, this tenderness, this bent toward wanting to scream and then cry when someone wrongs her; she is so dear and so thoughtful and so… worried. She’s worried she won’t be able to control her temper, find peace in conflict, or just breathe long enough to not yell at her brother when he irritates her. She thinks she’ll never change.
“Oh sweet Caroline, you are so much like me,” I tell her as we drive, just the two of us.
“No, mom, not really.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you know how to control your anger and I don’t. I’ll never be able to.”
And there it is, the lie that she’ll never change, the start of a downward thought process that can lead to despair if not corrected in truth.
“Care, how old are you?”
“Well, I’m 37, so I’ve got some years on you, and through those years God has helped me to have self-control, and He will help you too, but give yourself time to grow and learn and surrender and wait as He helps you. You can have self-control. Here, I’ll share some of what I’ve learned…”
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