My mom was the only child born to a 13-year-old single mother in the 1930s.  She grew up poor and feeling unloved.  My mom was an angry woman who didn’t appear to like being a mom.  She raised us the same way she’d been raised, with a harsh tone and little affection. So we grew up feeling unloved too.

Around fourth grade, mired in shame and guilt of my own, I began to lash out at others.  The girls who seemed to come from loving and caring families became the ones I targeted on the playground after school.  I hated those girls.  My actions didn’t make me feel better, though. In fact, I felt worse.

One summer during Vacation Bible School, I learned about Jesus.  I learned that he loved me to the point of death on the cross and that he died so that I would not have to feel shame and worthlessness.  I couldn’t imagine someone loving me like that.  I finally felt comforted, knowing that someone loved me.  I was a new creation. I didn’t have to hate girls whose moms took care of them.  In loving others who came from better circumstances than I did, I could actually experience the love of God and become the kind of person God intended me to be. 

Prayer:  Dear Lord, give us the desire to show others love as you have loved us and the strength to treat others well regardless of our circumstances.  Amen.