That’s what my mama called me my whole life. Me, my sister, then my daughters and now her great granddaughter. And it’s only grown more endearing through the generations.

A couple years ago I had a dream I was watching my own funeral. Yet it was quite different than a regular funeral in many ways. I wasn’t in a casket, I was just laying on a raised platform with a blanket over it. My whole body exposed from head to foot. I also didn’t have anything nice on, as we typically bury our loved ones in something dressy. I just had jeans and a regular shirt on. I was also wearing boots. There was only one big flower arrangement, which I also remember being odd. There weren’t any rows for seating or chairs anywhere. Matter of fact, the room was quite large, resembling an art gallery. But the only exhibit in the room was me.

Yet the most notable difference of all…my mother was the only one in attendance.

There were several others in the room afar off, talking and chatting with each other, seeming totally unbothered and even unaware of this sacred space my mom was in as she stood over my body.

So many strange things, but none compared to my mother’s grief. It felt like I was being allowed to wear her pain for a brief moment in time. She was so broken. There was such loss and turmoil in her heart. It was palpable. Even recalling it as I type now, I can feel the piercing anguish well up. The sorrow was tangible and it breaks my heart all over again.

When I woke up I couldn’t shake this dream for several days.

The Lord showed me this dream wasn’t about my physical death. But the death of a daughter and relationship my mother hoped and longed for. Hence all the reverse symbolisms. In His great goodness, He was allowing me to see my mother’s pain. He brought me into the space that only He sees. He allowed me a glimpse of something she carried alone. And it was a profound and life-altering experience.

I spent years being angry with my mother after my divorce. I was wrestling through so much and I was dealing with incredible pain of my own. But my mistake was I couldn’t see beyond it. I spent years wanting someone to be held accountable for what happened to me. Everyone except me, of course. I know now I can’t comprehend the pain I caused during the years I put distance between us. Those years of anger and blame shifting are some of my most regrettable.

And although I can happily and honestly report that those years of anger are long over, this dream brought forth a freedom I hadn’t yet known. It’s given me a gift I didn’t deserve. The gift of another persons experience.

Forgive your parents. I promise you will need the same mercy from your own children.

Your pain is real. But your bitterness is only fueling misery. Extending grace doesn’t minimize the wrong that was done. It simply makes room and spaciousness in your heart, knowing that in due time, you will be the one who needs Grace given.

A sometimes hard yet beautiful truth is the wronged and the wrongdoer can both go to God for the very same thing. And wisdom is knowing that sometimes the wrongdoer is you.

Thank you mama for being everything you are. Such an example of surrender. Such a passionate lover of Jesus. Such a life poured out for others. Thank you for taking your pain to the One who sees. You did good and you tried hard. I know that you cared with all your heart and always wanted the best for us. Thank you for doing your best and trusting Jesus with the rest.

I honor you. I honor the pain you’ve carried and the dying to yourself you’ve lived out. Words are too weak to express all I desire to and everything God’s shown me about you. But I’m so blessed to be your daughter.

The most beautiful girl in the world.

YOU are God’s most beautiful girl, and I love you with all my heart.