There are things I would do differently if I could relive those early years.

Back then, I didn’t understand how sacred the bond between a mother and her child truly was — that trust is learnt at a mother’s breast, through presence, warmth, and the rhythm of being held. When that bond is interrupted, it leaves an invisible fracture that often resurfaces in adulthood, especially when life feels overwhelming.

I see it now in the quiet distance of my own children — their self-sufficiency, their hesitance to share their hearts, not out of defiance, but because somewhere along the way, the safety of connection was disrupted. I grieve that.

In judging my parents, I became like them and made many of the same mistakes I once resented. The very patterns I swore I’d never repeat found their way into my own mothering, quietly passed down like unspoken legacies. Now, I see it in the fruit of my boys — their guardedness, their independence, their need to protect their own hearts. And yet, even this recognition is grace, because seeing truth is the beginning of redemption.

For I serve a God who redeems what time has eroded, who restores what was fractured by fear or ignorance. He turns

It’s never too late to acknowledge where we fell short, nor too late to pursue restoration. Love has a way of finding the cracks, filling them with mercy, and making something beautiful again — like kintsugi gold threading through broken pottery.

If we want to live in our children’s memories, we must be present in their moments — the first steps, the whispered words, the small victories. It is in those ordinary, sacred spaces that trust is formed and love takes root.

💡Reflection:

• Have I forgiven my parents for the ways they fell short, and in doing so, freed myself from repeating their patterns? 🤔

• What steps can I take today toward reconnection and grace? 🤔

🎺Affirmation:

I release judgment and receive grace. I am not bound to repeat old patterns — in Christ, I am made new, and so are my relationships.

🙌 Prayer:

Father God, thank You for the mercy that meets me even in my regrets.

Forgive me for the ways I judged my parents and for repeating the very wounds I sought to escape.

Teach me to mother — and to love — from a place of grace, not guilt.

Heal the spaces where distance took root and let Your love flow between us again.

Turn our hearts toward one another and restore the beauty of connection.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.