​Two years ago today I opened an email from my husband expecting words of apology and begging to reconcile.  Instead he asked me for a divorce. 
 
I prayed for the wrong eyes to be opened and the wrong heart to be softened….
 
As I sat across from this sweet, broken, sobbing woman, listening to her recount the many ways her husband had been abusive and how it had affected her, I was horrified to realize my ex-husband or any of my five children could be sitting in her place.  I recoiled at the thought and tucked it away.
 
Alone in my room, I pulled that ugly revelation out of its hiding place.  The truth was staring me in the face and I could no longer hide behind excuses or blame them for their reactions.  Up until this moment, I had not been able to see how my actions impacted them and caused their reactions.  I knew I had done and said some horrible things and I had apologized and I had felt sorry.  But I had not acknowledged how it had shaped and broken them and our relationships.  I was so focused on my own hurt because of their reactions that I mistook them as the perpetrators. 
 
I recollected the words I had spoken to her just hours before: “There is NEVER an excuse for abuse of any kind.”  The words reverberated through my thoughts…  These thoughts crippled me and my knees buckled as I sobbed with a sorrow that racked my soul more deeply than I had ever felt.  The words of Alma as he writes in Alma 36 about his soul being racked with torment as he remembered his sins, flooded my mind and the sobbing continued.
 
I had spent more than thirty years shifting blame, denying truth and playing the part of the victim.  I wasn’t insincere, or play acting.  I actually believed this version of events and though they did occur, they were merely reactions to my actions not the other way around.  I had been blinded by my own arrogance, pride and insecurities.  I had duped myself into believing a lie and worse, I had propagated this “truth”.
 
Her words kept echoing in my mind and heart.  “Why?  What did I do to deserve this?  How do I forgive?  How can I ever trust him again?  I love him, but I am afraid.  How do I know his change isn’t just motivated by the fact that I left?  How will I know if he has really changed?”
It dawned on me that my ex-husband had probably asked himself these same questions numerous times over the years.  I finally understood what he meant when he said divorcing me was all about his mental health.  Until this moment, I discounted it as an excuse he was giving so he could feel justified in having an affair.  My own ignorance baffles me.  I am not a stupid woman, but clearly I had been living with blinders on when it came to my own actions.  I had driven him to the arms of another woman through years of abuse.  What else can you call it?  I demeaned him, yelled at him, called him names, swore at him…
The shame I feel is enough to send me spiraling into a deep depression that I fear I will never escape from.  But I must not go there.  I cannot.  I have to be brave enough to own the damage I have caused. 
 
What a remarkable man he truly is.  He put up with, absorbed, lived through and forgave more times than he should have.  I believe he loved me.  I also realize that at some point love was not enough to sustain him.  Love is never enough.  It has to be coupled with respect and trust.  I destroyed those two key ingredients years before he took the opportunity I provided for him, to leave.  I never intended to hurt him.  I loved and still love him.  But I failed to show it in a consistent manner.  For every one time I was abusive, it would erase ten times of my affection.  The ratio isn’t fair, but it is accurate.  After thirty years his love tank was empty.  I had failed at the one thing I had devoted my life to and I had no one to blame but myself. 
 
I had been living in a fantasy where eternal marriages didn’t dissolve because of infidelity.  I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t reconcile if I was so willing to forgive and forget.  It just didn’t make sense.  But today I accept responsibility and I know that even eternal marriages can end because of abuse.  Heavenly Father had given me a glimpse of this insight back in 2000 when I was dealing with a similar issue in my marriage.  I took action and acknowledged that my behavior towards my family could be considered abusive and I apologized.  The focus then turned on his reaction (the affair), and we proceeded as if this had been the original sin.  My emotional immaturity, my battle with chronic depression and my low self-esteem and insecurities got in the way of me really digging deep and recognizing and fixing my own behavior.  My apology had been a band aid but my relationship was hemorrhaging and required a tourniquet and surgery or amputation. 
 
So why was I so surprised when 13 years later I was faced with the same reaction from him?  Because I still did not comprehend how my actions had depleted any positive feelings he had in our relationship.  I did not “get it”.  Again I was so focused on what he did and how it had impacted my life and that of our children that I was blind to my own folly.  He attempted on numerous occasions to point it out to me but my complete lack of humility clouded my examination of events.  From my perspective, I was the injured party and yet I was willing to forgive.  I was full of hope and the belief that covenants bind us together.  But today, my eyes have been opened and I see clearly the damage I have caused.
 
Why is it that the one I loved above all others is the one I hurt the most?  What compelled me to treat our relationship as a competition instead of a partnership?  I can cite abuse in my own life, insecurities, depression and a host of other excuses.  But that’s all they are, excuses.  And as I told her there is NEVER an excuse for any type of abuse.
 
The sadness I feel isn’t one of self-pity today.  I know what I’ve done and I finally own the consequences.  The idea that I expected him to jump back into a relationship with me after the years of pain I had put him through makes me shudder.  I hurt him.  Just saying that out loud makes me cry out in shame.  I hurt the only man I have ever loved. To call him a betrayer is inaccurate.  He is a survivor and a champion. 
 
It pains my heart to know that I have come to this realization too late for us.  But I have at least come to it.  He has moved on with a woman who can show love to him in the ways he can feel, and he deserves nothing less than that.  I finally understand his hesitation to accept that the change he has sensed in me was real and lasting.  It is, but it wasn’t enough until today, and today is too late for him.  But it is not too late for me. My hard heart has finally been softened.
 
So I write to you today dear (ex) husband with the right apology…finally.  Although I had hoped for an opportunity to reconcile with you, I realize you have found a positive, wholesome relationship with someone else. 
 
I am sorry for every day I didn’t make you feel like you were the most important person in my life.  I am sorry for every time I made a snide remark that was aimed to hurt you.  I am sorry for every time I made our conversations a competition.  I am sorry for every time I yelled at you.  I am sorry for every time I called you names.  I am sorry for every time I made you feel small.  I am sorry I didn’t show you the love I feel for you with my words and my actions.  I am sorry for all of the pain I caused you to feel.  I am sorry for blaming you for problems in our marriage.  I am sorry for walking out instead of staying to work it out.  I am sorry for my blinded eyes and my hardened heart.  I am sorry. 
 
With love and admiration,
 
Becky Lynn
 
 

​How many generations does it take to stop the cycle of abuse? 
Just one.
 
My heart was filled with compassion when I opened my home as a safe haven in her time of need.  I listened to her recount the many ways her husband had abused her.  My first inclination was to empathize with her and share my own stories of victimhood.  But for some reason I was stopped dead in my tracks as I really listened. She was describing actions that I had perpetrated on my own spouse and children.  Actions that sounded horrifying as they were spoken out loud by this sweet, sobbing woman. 
 
“But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:5–6).
Drowning in the sea did not seem like punishment enough as I recollected how many times I had yelled, and swore, at my children because they would not do what I said immediately.  If only I could reverse the damage I knew I had caused. I cannot. The damage is child abuse.
 
I know all parents get stressed; and often lash out verbally at their kids. However, there is no excuse for abuse. Provocation from my children does not equal child abuse as an acceptable means of discipline. Hitting, kicking, slapping, shaming, yelling, swearing…. these were all tactics I had used to one degree or another to gain control when my emotions were out of control.  Abuse is abuse, you just can’t spin it any other way.
 
My children were strong willed and tested me to the limit but I had also fostered their independent natures. In desperation, frustration and disempowerment, I emotionally abused my children because they were being strong willed, being who they were born to be. My need to be respected and obeyed often outweighed my desire to love and protect.
 
There is always an unequal balance of power between children and adults and it is the adults responsibility to use the power in a way that helps not hinders. My vocabulary range and intonation was greater than my children’s and therefore a more potent weapon. I could have chosen to use my words to heal and help, but instead I used my toxic tongue to hurt and demean.
 
I am aware that no amount of apology will recover the hurt they experienced at my hands. I was the adult and I should have used the power to change my behavior. If I had only had the sense to bite my tongue when I wanted to lash out verbally, or remember the hurt look on my child’s face, I would have been doing my job as the mom to protect my kids. Instead… I was the monster they feared.
 
Right now I am an advocate for protecting this woman from abuse. I am also a parent being brought to the realization that I have been an abuser, not just of my children, but my spouse as well. The regret I feel is real, the shame – crippling.  When people hear of abuse they automatically think of sexual or physical, but verbal abuse creates scars on the inside that nobody can see.
 
I should have taken time to consider the potency of the words that fell from my mouth in moments of anger. I should have known that yelling, screaming, swearing and sarcasm directed toward my children are forms of emotional child abuse.  So why didn’t I? I could cite all kinds of reasons that would make sense to anyone.  The bottom line is: there is NEVER an excuse for abuse.
 
I know I have sent apology emails, texts and letters in the past, but I recognize that while well meaning, they were passive-aggressive and filled with excuses. Those apologies did not express true regret for what happened, they didn’t show any concern for how my children were impacted by the abuse.  My apologies were band aids placed on our hemorrhaging relationships.
 
It pains me to realize that I may be the cause of any abuse directed from my children to their spouse/significant other or worse yet, my beloved grandchildren.  I have modeled for them a dysfunctional way of relating in a family dynamic. They have shown great resilience and character, so I pray that they will be the generation to stop the cycle of abuse.
 
 
 
I write to you now my Child,
I’m so deeply sorry for all the pain and suffering and neglect that you endured through my actions or inactions. If I could go back in time, I’d right those wrongs and treat you with the love and respect that you are owed as a human being… You are loved and cherished, and I am profoundly sorry that I didn’t make you feel like the great gift you are in my life. You’re someone I would have liked to have loved better and known more. I am so very, very sorry.
You still need to heal, grow, and learn to be you. You need to focus on being a child of God, on being the you that is. Because that you is perfect.
I also apologize for denigrating your father.  He is an amazing man who put up with more than his fair share of abuse from me.  My need to be the victim often painted him in a Picasso like fashion and that wasn’t fair to you or to him.  I know many of his actions were simply reactions to years of pain inflicted by me.  When passing judgement on the faults of your parents, just know that he deserves your mercy.
I know that apologies do not merit forgiveness and I expect none.  I only wish to convey to you that I know what I did and I take responsibility and it was wrong, so very wrong!
Love,
from your mother who loves you deeply but did not love you well enough.
 

Despite how many times we have been hurt in this bittersweet life, our hearts were programmed for one thing: love.

It doesn’t matter if that type of love is friendship, family, self-love or even that for our pets. Love is not a singular feature though, and while there is a complex and stunning puzzle around most love affairs, the root and essence of lasting love is trust.

“The best way to find out if you can trust someone is to trust them.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

Trust is the foundation that we build our lives on, and it is a necessary ingredient in every aspect of our lives. We have to put trust in everyone that crosses our path; from the corner banker, to our mechanic, our child’s teacher, our employer, friends, family and of course our lovers.

We have to trust that they are doing their jobs correctly, that they have honest intentions, and that they wouldn’t want to intentionally lie to or hurt us. When that trust is broken it sometimes becomes difficult for us to trust again, and sometimes it becomes impossible. But switching mechanics because we found out they charged too much for unnecessary repairs is very different from the type of trust we give those friends and lovers inside our inner circle.

It’s those people that we’ve let into our inner most circles that have the ability to hurt us the most, because we have given them the map of our hearts. Trusting someone who is close to us though is not the same as thinking they are incapable of making mistakes. Trust means that we know even if we find ourselves hurt that the other person’s intention was never to do that, because we know they care about us and we value being a part of each other’s lives.

To trust is not to be free from mistakes or hurt, but to believe in the connection between our self and another and the goodness of their heart.

Some people trust better than others. Or maybe they just have more faith in the human condition to do that which is right and honorable. Maybe most of us are just hoping that those we trust have hearts similar to our own; crimson, open and exposed to the bright sun, so full of love that we could never imagine hurting those who have made a home there.

To trust is to have faith.

It’s faith in the heart of another; it’s choosing to believe that they would never want to cause pain or heartache if it was unnecessary. It’s letting that person feel the secrets and imperfections of our heart and believing that it will be safe with them.

Sometimes there may not be any good reason to trust someone, and there may in fact be even more reasons not to. But trust has a way of sneaking in under the guise of violet twilight, smelling like fresh basil and lemons; it weaves itself in between the strands of our hair and among the stars in our eyes.

It curls up like a satisfied cat in the sun and makes a home there.

Even when our brains tell us it’s foolish, or when our egos try to remind us of all the times that it didn’t work out before, it doesn’t care. It stretches out even further and brings silence and peace to all the doubts that may ping pong around inside of us.

Faith has the power to silence the loudest fears.

I have a theory that people will live up (or down) to the expectations that we have of them. If we believe they are capable of lies, of living a life rooted in dishonesty and constantly question their every move or intention then they will more or less live down to those expectations.

But, if instead, we look at someone with open eyes and an open heart and tell them that we have faith in them. That when they tell us something we simply believe them because we don’t think they would ever lie to us. If we continually present our most authentic self to them and they continue to show up in our lives, then not only will they live up to those expectations, but we will know that we are safe with them.

And the trust is confirmed.

To trust at times is to take a blind leap of faith. It’s believing someone when they say not to worry, and having faith that everything will work out exactly as it is meant to regardless of what that is.

It’s learning that we don’t know if we can really trust someone until we take the chance and decide to.

It’s choosing to hand them our hearts, our weakness, the secrets of our kryptonite, and then blowing a kiss to them over our shoulder as we smile and take that leap of faith.

The faith to trust them.

“You don’t always need a plan. Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go, and see what happens.” ~ Author Unknown

 

how to let love in.

There are many, many guides for loving someone else: how to love this kind of guy, that kind of girl, a guy who ____, a girl who ____.

But what about ourselves, the ones doing all the loving?

Once we’ve learnt how to love someone the most perfect way we can, and they love us back, are we ready and able to receive that love? To let ourselves be loved by them?

Actually, even I don’t think I really know if I have all the answers to this. My own dear heart has splintered enough times that parts of it are still being held up by Band-Aids. Then, it becomes almost easy to forget how to let ourselves be loved.

Sometimes the love we let in turns toxic; sometimes it burns; sometimes it just ups and leaves, a giant gaping hole in its wake. We become wary about letting any of it come near us again.

But there have been times where I have been loved, and where I loved back fully, my heart stretched so wide open it was almost smiling. Those days or weeks or however-long-it-was held some secret truth in them, an elixir we should bottle up and use again for when our hearts need mending.

So I’ll reach back to those old days and try, just for a moment, to reclaim a few of those secrets for letting ourselves be loved.

1. First, know that we are worthy

A cliché, but a true one. I think much of allowing love back into our lives is to know and believe that we are deserving of that love in the first place. Know that even if our hearts are a little mushed up, pockmarked in places, bent out of shape, they are uniquely ours and beautiful and strong in their own ways.

No matter how much muck we’ve had to wade through, that heart—you, me—started out in exactly same place of newness and clarity and goodness, as every other being on this planet. By that spark of good that resides in every single one of us alone (and I believe it absolutely does, no matter how many mistakes we have made so far), why shouldn’t you or I or any one of us be as deserving of love as the next person?

2. Let ourselves be loved by ourselves

I know how frightening it can be to rip those Band-Aids off of our heart and open its doors again—we never quite know what will come flooding through, whether it will hug us with the love we hope for or flatten us in sadness.

So how’s this: how about letting in a “safe” love first? How about opening our hearts to ourselves?

Wrap yourself up in the love you would give to another delicate, dear being. Care, nurture, nourish, feed, indulge now and then. See all the prettiest parts of yourself and feel proud, like you would if you were looking upon your own child. Remember the splendid, you-est parts of you that wouldn’t be found in anyone else and celebrate them.

If this is still too hard, we can start by just being gentle and kind with ourselves; allowing ourselves to be wherever we are in each moment. Breathe. Move. Smile. Cry. Dance. Write. Sleep.

Do whatever it is that makes your heart sing and helps you be the you-est, most unique, most brilliant you; this is all part of nourishing and caring… and eventually, falling in love with yourself.

3. Know that we are already loved

I think many of us know this, but perhaps don’t really realize or live it on a daily basis: That “love” or “being loved” isn’t just about the love of a romantic partner.

There is already so much love in our lives, which count for more than we probably really realize every morning as we wake up and stumble through our days: the immeasurable love from our families, the friends who may as well be family, our animals, nature itself as it leans in (through food, weather, the ground, the plants in our gardens) to nourish our bodies and minds and spirits.  And most of all, the love we constantly, continually have from our Heavenly Father.

We can let our hearts “practice” at letting love in through all the love that’s already filling our pores and bathing our skins. With each phone call from a friend, a hug from a parent or a wet, slobbery kiss from an excitable Great Dane, let your heart swell a bit more and nudge away a Band-Aid.

The more love we let in—from what is already around us—the more pliable and elastic our hearts get; the more able it is to stretch in the direction of opening and welcoming more in.

4. Know that there is (already) plenty of romance

It’s true, you know. There really are plenty of opportunities for romance every day, whether we’re single, or looking, or attached, or whatever—“it’s-complicated”—status we’re in.

There is romance and delight in the everyday—we just have to notice it. More importantly, we can create it for ourselves in so many of the interactions we have, or the things we do.

Write letters by hand, go for a picnic with an old friend under a favorite old tree, bake something special for someone who helped you recently, buy flowers for yourself, go for barefoot walks and stop to look at birds, sit in the moonlight alone, eat doughnuts messily and get sugar all over your face.

This is also about nourishing ourselves. It is about acknowledging that we’re deserving of romance, joyful delicate things, love and celebration, whatever our “marital status” and whatever we’re doing.

It is about leaning in to ourselves, listening out for what makes us light up and giving that to ourselves. And when we light up, others notice. They’ll want in on it too—to love this light, to love whatever it is that’s bringing us alive, to love us too.

5. Open up the space for more love

To really let ourselves be loved is a careful process. It’s dipping one toe in the water, then a foot, then a leg before daring to dive in completely. It’s about getting comfortable with the idea of being loved in the first place, putting our hands out to feel our way around it.

But here’s the trick: we can “practice” letting ourselves be loved, through any of the four points above. This is getting our feet wet.

As we practice and become more comfortable with what it means to be loved, nourished, cared for, celebrated, we’re acknowledging to ourselves and others that there is love in our lives; that we are worthy of love; that we are grateful for love; that we enjoy being loved.

Like attracts like. So as we recognize and feel the love we already have, our hearts flex and stretch and strengthen their walls, trying it all on for size. Our hearts dare to throw off their bandages, open their cracks a little wider to let more in. We open up more space for more love.

The best part? We’ll be ready when more of that plump, juicy, heart-thumping love does come.

But even if it doesn’t, we’ll already be filled up, we’ll already be loving and we’ll already have learnt how to let ourselves be loved.

I loved him for his touch

For those eyes that shied away so easily. For those lips that told me I deserved more.

Maybe it was the way he closed his eyes when he played Bob Dylan songs.

Possibly it was those times when he called me sexy and pulled me back into his arms.

I loved him for all the times we laid on the bed, on sand, and on everything in between. I loved him for the way he smelled of old spice and musky-maleness.

I loved him just because.

I can’t explain it any other way.

He left.

He left when I could have used the most love. It took the deepest pain, mixed with his absence, to realize I do not need to love him, to fill my heart any longer.

I fill my heart.

I love me for how I stroke my own hair. For my hazel green eyes that gaze back at me in the mirror. For my slightly pink lips and the smile they produce. For the fact that I can’t get through a Bond movie without wanting to be Bond, not the Bond girl. Or maybe it’s the jokes I make in my head that no one will ever hear.

Maybe it is how I close my eyes when I listen to Bob Dylan songs.

Possibly it is those times when I fall onto my bed after a difficult day, feeling strong.

I love me for the times I’ve sat alone on beds, beaches, and tree branches. I love me for the way people smile at me.

And when asked, I always have a colorful answer.

I love me just because in the end, I am all I have. The best part is that there is no worst part.

Somewhere along the way I’ve taken back my heart without forgetting the times I loved.

Finding a good man, x-ray vision not required.

I want a man who makes me feel like the most amazing woman alive. He treats me with the care and respect I deserve; he loves our children in a way that melts my heart—and every single day I can thank God that I married this man.

So what am I looking for in a guy? These 10 things:

1. Humor. Life has ups and downs, and dramas and supporting characters that we sometimes wish would vanish. So my guy should make me laugh.

2. Intelligence.  Does my guy have to have an I.Q. better than Einstein’s? No, but he definitely needs to be able to relate to me on a mental level—and he should bring out my own curiosity and intellect too.

3. Physical fitness. My guy doesn’t have to leap tall buildings in a single bound—but if he takes care of himself physically, it’s a sign of self-respect.

4. Patience. Being in a relationship with me probably isn’t easy. I’m neurotic and hyperactive—and impatient. So I would be eternally grateful if I married a guy with the patience of a superhero. Trust me, if he has patience with me and my quirky qualities, it makes life that much easier.

5. Loving feeling. My husband needs to love me; truly love who I am inside and out. I want someone who really likes being with me.

6. Soulful. My guy needs to be spiritual. Being with someone with a spiritual nature is enriching to your life—and to the relationship you share.  To love God first is the best way to be.

7. Commitment Lover.  My ideal partner should show a level of commitment in other areas of his life besides me.

8. Good taste.  Clothes and jewelry that are hand-picked by my husband not only show good taste, but that he cares. I don’t think that this has to be a requirement of a successful relationship—but it sure doesn’t hurt either.

9. Compliments. My perfect mate should spend more time highlighting what’s great about me than harping on my lesser traits; not because he’s blind to my reality, but because he loves me for who I am and knows that we live up to the standards that are set for us. In short, we grow to be our best selves in a nurturing, positive environment.

10. He doesn’t take your crap. Okay, so I do mean the above statement in number nine. However, that doesn’t mean my guy should turn his head if I treat him poorly, try to control him, or act in a way that’s beneath me. He should encourage—and if necessary demand—that I rise and shine to the occasion; that I be my best self.

Life is challenging, and a great partner should make my life easier not harder.

Finding a good guy is possible.

I won’t give up the quest!

 I’ve seen a lot of these titles in the past year:

> Date a girl who practices hot yoga. 

> Date a girl who can sew. 

> How to date a girl who writes (my personal favorite).

What we do (hobbies, work, roles) matters. It says something about our souls. But I also think that we can get too caught up in what we do when how we are matters more. So here is my version:

 Date a woman who knows the beauty of being alone.

Date a woman who is hard-headed, who is not afraid to speak her mind, who can be stubborn and passionate and wants to have the occasional debate because she wants to learn how you think and how you see the world. She questions assumptions (including her own), explores ideas, breaks molds. She is naturally curious. She wants to be stretched.

She wants to change your mind and she wants her own mind changed.

Date a woman who knows fear, sorrow, loss. Who isn’t scared to get emotionally naked. She knows that her own beauty lies in knowing her true value (but now and then she forgets, and then you can step in to remind her).

Date a woman who knows her way around her own heart and is not afraid to break it. She knows what it wants and she stands up for it with conviction.

Date a woman who knows how to make real eye contact, because she values intimacy. She thrives on her capacity to build authentic relationships and surrounds herself with only this kind.

Date a woman who knows that she loves at least one thing fiercely: her children, her work, her art, her trade, her garden, her animals.

Date a woman who knows that taking/offering space to grow can sometimes be the best kind of love that one person can offer another, even when this means saying goodbye.

Date a woman who you are unsure of at first, not because she doesn’t seem like enough but because she scares you a little bit in her realness. Yet she continues to surprise and challenge you in this very way every time you see her.

Date a woman who knows how to laugh at herself, who might sometimes just crack the corniest jokes but they make you smile anyway.

Date a woman who sees as much possibility in sitting in silence as she does exploring every nook: world, body, mind, soul. She holds a quiet confidence. She walks with purpose.

Date a woman who knows that her heart is fragile. When it becomes too melty and heavy she might tuck herself away to feel better: let her. Then drop her a note or stop by with chocolate to lighten her up (she will need this but might not be able to ask for it).

Date a woman who will drop everything in a millisecond to help a friend in need.

Date a woman who knows that love is something that comes from inside, not something that she can ‘get’ from someone else, because she knows that she is loved.

Date a woman who accepts herself today but (gently) pushes herself to be better the next. You will want to do the same by just being around her.

Date a woman who understands the problems with being ‘too busy.’

Date a woman who is sure about this one thing: that we can never really be sure about anything.

Because life is fluid. And each day she realizes how beautiful and scary this is, and so she humbles herself to it. She starts each and every day looking to learn, experience, create, teach something new, because she knows that this is what makes life (worth living).

Date a woman who knows art and music. She may not create it herself but she needs it to move through her because it makes her (and the world) better.

Date a woman who understands the value of taking a risk, who is not afraid of making a mistake because she knows how to pick herself back up after she falls.

She’s ready to accept your offer to help her up the next time she does.

Date a woman, not a girl. But when the little girl in her comes out now and then (and she will), you will still love her as the woman that she is.

Be with—no, know--a woman who wants to understand herself a little better each day. She wants to understand you too.