Each year, February brings the painful dance of my heart. It’s not that I’m angry. It’s not that I’m hating what I see. It’s just a longing within my once little girl heart that will never be fulfilled.

The beautiful pictures plastered all over social media during this month brings sweet memories never beheld. Precious relationships promising treasured protection and defense for all her days.

His large frame casts a shadow not of harm or destruction but of love and nurture. Her petite form is sheltered, cherished and adored. They stand in parade for all to appreciate and celebrate.

I am thankful for his place in her life. I am grateful for her desire for his strength and fortitude. I truly am.

Yet, my heart breaks time and again for the wee little one standing at the door, her packed bags awaiting his never return. She forms her own dance, spinning, twirling, hoping for his hand; yet, he never extends it.

Someway, somehow, she makes it to the One who holds the key. With tears streaming, hopes shattered and dreams crushed, He takes her into His arms, and swirls her life into a new masquerade where she can smile again. ❤️