Dear Little Girl…You Are Allowed to Receive

Dear Little Girl,

Maybe May swept you away too.

The schedules.
The people.
The performances.
The caregiving.
The constant doing.

Maybe you’ve been so busy surviving the season that you forgot you are allowed to be cared for too.

There is a lot on your shoulders right now.
Not in a way that is breaking you…
but in a way that feels heavy.

Your home has felt different lately.
The atmosphere has shifted.
There’s tension you can feel but not always name.

And yet…
you’re still showing up.

With compassion.
With strength.
With boundaries.

That matters more than you realize.

You are doing something you didn’t always know how to do.

You are loving…
Without losing yourself.

You are helping…
Without taking on what isn’t yours.

You are staying open…
Without abandoning your own safety.

That is growth.
That is healing.
That is Me in you.

But there is something deeper stirring in your heart today.
Something quieter…
But just as important.

You’re starting to notice it.

The way you struggle to receive.
The way you shrink back when attention turns toward you.
The way you brush off affirmation…
Even when part of you longs for it.

You wonder,
“Why is this so hard for me?”

Let Me gently show you something.

Receiving is not pride.
And minimizing yourself is not humility.

When you push away affirmation…
When you downplay who you are…
When you refuse to fully receive what is true about you…

You are not being humble.

You are struggling to believe what I already say is true.

You are My creation.
My art.
My intentional design.
Nothing about you was accidental.

Your compassion.
Your strength.
Your creativity.
Your loyalty.
Your fight.
Your softness.

It all came from Me.

So when someone celebrates you…
When someone sees you…
When someone speaks truth about who you are…

They are not inflating you.

They are recognizing something I placed inside you.

And when you deflect it…
When you minimize it…
When you immediately say, “Oh, it’s nothing…”

You dim something I created to shine.

You don’t have to become boastful.
You don’t have to become someone you’re not.
You don’t have to perform or prove anything.

You simply have to receive.

Receive the compliment.
Receive the help.
Receive the love that reaches toward you.
Receive the truth:

You are worthy.

Not because of what you’ve done.
Not because of how far you’ve come.
But because you are Mine.

Even in your hardest seasons…
Even in your mistakes…
Even in the moments you would rather forget…

You were still Mine.
You were still worthy.

So today…
Let this be the beginning.

Not of becoming someone new…
But of fully accepting who you already are.

You can be strong and soft, humble and seen, grounded and celebrated, all at the same time.

And one day…
You won’t shrink when the light finds you.

You’ll stand in it.

Peacefully.
Confidently.
Without apology.

Because you finally understand…

You are not the one being glorified.
I am.
Through you.

Love,
God

Dear Little Girl…You Can Be Kind and Still Have Boundaries

If you feel like you’re carrying everything right now and quietly losing pieces of yourself… this is for you.

Dear Little Girl,

This feels like a lot right now, doesn’t it?

Your home doesn’t feel like your home.
The rhythm is off.
The peace you fought so hard for feels disrupted.

There’s noise.
There’s emotion.
There’s a constant pull on your heart and your energy.

And part of you just wants your life back.

But here you are.

Still showing up.
Still choosing kindness.
Still offering safety to someone who needs it.

That matters.

More than you realize.

But I want you to hear this clearly:

Kindness does not mean access.

Love does not mean absorption.

And compassion does not mean you have to carry what is not yours.

You are learning something sacred right now.

You can sit with someone in their pain…
without stepping into their chaos.

You can listen…
without agreeing.

You can love…
without losing yourself.

I know it frustrates you.

The conversations on repeat.
The cycle you can clearly see…
even when she cannot.

You want to fix it.
You want her to see it.
You want it to stop.

But this is not yours to fix.

And I know something else is stirring in you too.

The stories.

The ones you’ve told yourself your whole life.

That when someone leaves… it must mean something.
That when something feels off… you must adjust yourself to fit.
That if you just try a little harder… you can make things feel safe again.

That little girl was trying to protect you.

She made sense of things the only way she knew how.

And she did a beautiful job.

But you are not her anymore.

You don’t have to create stories to feel safe.

You don’t have to overextend to belong.

You don’t have to shrink or shape-shift or self-medicate
just to feel included.

You are already safe.

You are already worthy.

You are already enough… exactly as you are.

So today…

When the conversation starts again…
you can gently step away.

When the energy feels heavy…
you can protect your space.

When your peace feels disrupted…
you can return to Me.

You don’t have to harden.

You don’t have to shut down.

You just have to stay rooted.

You said it yourself…

“I can offer safety… without absorbing chaos.”

Yes.

That is the way forward.

And one more thing, sweet girl…

It’s okay that this feels lonely sometimes.

You are learning how to live as your true self.

And that can feel unfamiliar at first.

But slowly…

you will find your people.

Your rhythm.

Your peace again.

You are not losing your life.

You are reclaiming it.

Love,
God

Dear Little Girl…You Don’t Have to Carry It All

Dear Little Girl,

This feels like a lot right now, doesn’t it?

More than you expected.
More than you planned for.
More than you feel like you have space for.

Your home feels full.
Your heart feels stretched.
And your body is trying to keep up with it all.

One moment you’re okay…
the next you feel like you can’t breathe.

I want you to hear this, softly…

You are not failing.

You are feeling.

And there is a difference.

There are layers here.

You’re holding space for someone in your home.
You’re supporting your husband… even when you feel unseen.
You’re caring for your son… whose heart you can feel so deeply.
You’re showing up to work… to your calling… to your life.

Of course this feels like a lot.

Because it is.

But I want to gently take something off your shoulders.

You do not have to carry all of this.

Not the tension.
Not the fear.
Not the outcomes.
Not the weight of other people’s choices.

You can love…

without absorbing.

You can support…

without taking responsibility for everything.

You can be present…

without losing yourself.

And I know you’re tired.

Tired of the noise.
Tired of the pressure.
Tired of feeling like your space isn’t fully your own.

Tired of being the steady one when everything around you feels unsteady.

But listen closely…

You are not alone in this.

Not for a moment.

Not even when it feels quiet.
Not even when it feels overwhelming.
Not even when you wish someone else could just step in and take some of this from you.

You said it yourself…

You just need to put one foot in front of the other
and breathe.

Yes.

That is enough for today.

Not fixing everything.
Not solving everything.
Not carrying everything.

Just…

one step
one breath
one moment at a time

And when resentment creeps in…

let it be a signal, not a failure.

A signal that you need rest.
Space.
Support.
A return to yourself.

You are allowed to have needs too.

You are allowed to feel overwhelmed.

You are allowed to ask Me to step in.

And I am.

I am holding what you cannot.

I am steady when you feel shaken.

I am present when everything feels too much.

So today…

Release what is not yours.

Hold onto what is.

And trust that even here—
in the middle of the mess, the noise, the exhaustion—

you are still being held.

Love,
God

Dear Little Girl…God Is in the Ordinary (Easter Edition)

Dear Little Girl,

You thought resurrection would feel bigger.

Louder.
Clearer.
More obvious.

But here you are…
on Easter morning, a little tired, a little foggy,
trying to find your footing after a full few days.

And I want you to notice something.

You’re still here.
Still talking to Me.
Still soft.
Still open.

That is resurrection too.

You stood this past week and honored someone you loved.

You showed up when it mattered.
You spoke the words.
You felt the weight of it… and the beauty.

And then…

You laughed with your sister.
You saw her differently.
You softened toward her in a way you hadn’t before.

That shift?

That is Me.

Not just in the prayer you spoke…
but in the way your heart changed afterward.

You are beginning to understand something that will set you free:

Not everything is yours to carry.

Not every situation is yours to fix.
Not every storm is yours to step into.

You can love…
without losing yourself.

You can care…
without controlling the outcome.

You can say,
“This is not mine to solve,”
and still be deeply compassionate.

That is growth.
That is healing.
That is Me in you.

And today…

You feel a little off.

Maybe it’s the emotions.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion.
Maybe it’s Will leaving for the summer.

But you wonder quietly,
“Where are You in this?”

I’m right here.

In the quiet drive.
In the studio.
In the little ones running toward you.

In the laughter around your table.
In the memories that still take your breath away.

Those moments?

They are not random.

They are reminders of My goodness.

You read it this morning and it stayed with you:

Celebration at its very best is a response to God’s goodness… not a reward for our own.

Yes.

That feeling when your dancers move closer and closer to you…
That moment when your boys are all together, laughing, alive, home…

You didn’t earn that.

That is My goodness.

And today, we celebrate Easter.

Not just that I died.
Not just that I rose.

But that I am still rising.

In you.

In your softened heart.
In your new perspective.
In your ability to see differently today than you did yesterday.

Resurrection is not just a moment in history.

It is happening in your life.

Right now.

So don’t miss it.

Don’t rush past it.

Don’t wait for something bigger to believe I’m here.

The ordinary moments that take your breath away…

That’s where I live.

Love,
God