There was a time when I lacked the maturity to admit the truth about my parents; the honest, brutal, agonizingly painful truth. They are awesome.
Most of my childhood, I thought of them as my mortal enemies. Who did they think they were, telling me to ” Go clean your room.” and “put on some different clothes. That is how girls end up pregnant.”
I foolishly wished for parents how would have let me see the PG-13 movie, for the parents who would buy me $200 designer bags when I was twelve. I got so mad at my incredible parents for holding me to higher standards and teaching me to live a life set apart. These people who taught me to be different were always there to cheer me up when I was left out, and pick me up from school when the cruelty of 15 year old girls was too much. They have always been there to dry my tears and pray with me and for me.
I am so thankful for every Starbucks and pedicure trip my mom and I ever bonded over. My heart is so full thinking about the long rides home from church on a Wednesday night when my dad and I talked about Old Testament prophecies and other nerdy, PK discourse. My parents taught me about Jesus Christ. I am a millennial who loves church because of their example. Most of all, I am thankful to my parents for partnering with God to give me life.
They have taken on the biggest challenge/ responsibility that anyone could ever attempt. I am so overcome with thankfulness and joy that I have parents who love me and support me. Now, I want to be a ministry minded woman and mother like my mom and I want to marry a strong, intelligent, visionary guy like my dad.