I was fifteen. I was at my boyfriend’s house and my mom called me and told me I had to come home. Something was wrong, I could hear it in her voice. As I walked the half block home, I was anxious and afraid. I had no idea what I was going home to, but it couldn’t be good. It was never good.
As I walked up the steps to the front door, I could already hear them yelling. I opened the door and heard the words more clearly, she was yelling at him. “I make one mistake and you’re going to hold it against me for the rest of my life!”
That’s the day I learned that I was a mistake. I believed it. I spent most of my adult life believing it. I believed that I was the reason he was not happy and the reason why he acted the way he did towards me. That’s why he couldn’t be proud of me and why he resented me. It took many, many years for me to realize it wasn’t true.
I am NOT a mistake, God doesn’t make mistakes. I am thankful and blessed that I have a Heavenly Father that made me and loves me.