Dear Lord,

When she was just a baby

And got pinched fingers and hurt,

I hurt.

When she got older

And experienced hurt feelings,

I hurt.

Then when she grew up

And out of my arms and into the world,

And hurt for all the things she couldn't have;

I hurt because I had to refuse her.

Even when she chose to go against my wishes

And eventually got hurt,

I hurt all the more.

At times I feel myself growing cold and distant,

Immune to hurt.

Don't let me do this, Lord,

For as long as I hurt,

I care.