As I’ve read through the Gospel of John, so many memories have been stirring… and as I’ve worked through them, I’ve been constantly drawn to you: the young girls crying themselves to sleep at night, praying to be somebody they’re not, begging to be somebody worth knowing. I see you in my story, and I see us in John. May I share with you?

I remember being very young, around five or six, and my dad asking me what I liked about myself.

I said, "I think I'm pretty."