The Daughter Diary

I wasn't a favorite of anyone.   My mom had Scott and my dad had Staci.  That's always been pretty cool with me because it freed me to be me.  I chose to excel at school, go to church more often than just Sundays, and indulge my passion for reading great literature, developing cooking skills, and volunteering.

Why did I mention mom and dad and then follow with that list of stuff?  Because each of those are things I care about, and didn't get from my parents, just like their hobbies and the things they excelled at didn't interest me.

School?  Neither of my parents cared about it - or they just didn't have the support they needed to make school matter.  

Church?  They only went to church when they had to go - and after church was a complete bitch session about who dissed mom (hey, if you don't want to shake my hand, I'm cool with that!  Oh.  And, dad?  Trying to get us to cry by squeezing our fingers into the pew?  No.  That's sort of anti-Gospel, ya know?).  

Literature?  Mom used to read romantic fiction, but nothing of substance. Dad? No.

Cooking?  Mom was a decent cook, but had no passion for it.  

Volunteerism?  Neither of them are volunteers.  

These things belong to me alone, and they are the best parts of me.

Being excellent is always my goal.  I confess to not being excellent in many ways.

• I'm not an excellent wife, but I have an excellent marriage.
• I'm not an excellent mother, but I have excellent sons.
• I'm not an excellent friend, but I have excellent relationships.
• I'm not an excellent pianist, but I accompany people like a madwoman.
• I'm not an excellent student, but I have one of those GPAs to admire.
• I'm not an excellent employee, but I improve what I am responsible to complete every day. 
• I'm not an excellent businesswoman, but I always do what I promise.
• I'm not an excellent mentor, but I can get people to do what they are called to do.

There are many places I don't excel.  But we all have our talents.

My saddest revelation is that I cannot say I am an excellent daughter.

I was once.  It was when Grandpa Stuart was dying and my dad had been assigned times to care for him.  My dad couldn't care for him, but I could.  I saw giving him a bath, taking him to the bathroom, and making him comfortable as acts of mercy and reveled in the "work" of the day.  I felt like I was actually being the hands and feet of Christ.  It wasn't pretty, but it was merciful.   My dad was so thankful for my help with the things he could not do.  It was the closest connection I have ever felt to a parent. 

At this point in my life, I have no contact with my mother, who is owned by her addictions.

I also have issues with my dad. 

I am thankful that I am the person I am, and I attribute much of my strength to my parents.  Being who they were made me who I am.

All I can say and hope, is this:  Heavenly Father, please show me the paths of righteousness.  At the same time, I maintain faith in this:  All things work to the good of those who love the Lord.

And I do love the Lord.

With all my heart.

Regards,

Kari