Bonus Daughter
I was a young mother of a three-year-old when my bonus daughter came into my life. She came as the newborn baby of my then boyfriend, now husband, during a brief break in our
relationship. There was an entire gamut of emotions I didn’ t have time to process because she was here, and she needed to be cared for. I was neither equipped nor prepared to be a mother of two children. I was still trying to perfect being a mother to one.
Having my bonus daughter came with many challenges that were unique to me. Learning to share her with her biological mother when we had very different opinions on how she should be raised. I spent many years fighting her mother and resenting the fact I had to share with her, when I preferred to raise our daughter as I best saw fit. But the reality was that I didn’ t fully comprehend the need for training and caring care for a biracial child. I knew nothing of her culture and only cared that mine was represented. Oh, how naive I was.
It didn’ t help that as my daughter, dropping the bonus here, was as strongwilled as me. I spent most of her adolescent years attempting to mold her into the young lady I thought she needed to be verses seeing the young lady God was designing her to be. I didn’ t appreciate that she found humor in the hard things in life. Struggle and difficulties weren’ t funny. I didn’ t like that she learned to be creative in getting what she wanted from people, including her dad, and would lie when confronted about the smallest thing. I had no understanding that these were behaviors she put into practice to protect herself from all that she was being exposed to unbeknownst to me and her father. I simply associated the behavior with rebellion and manipulation.
All along, she was dealing with obstacles of her own. Going in between our house and her mother’ s house. Placed in painful situations when she was still a child, and then learning to grow alongside a sister she felt we favored more than her. I found myself always trying to reaffirm her position in our lives and her resenting me for not doing it to her satisfaction. Truth is I wasn’ t. I wasted time being bitter and angry for her not being the person, I desired her to be. Blaming her father for not doing more during the custody battles. Blaming her biological mother for not raising her according to my standards, when truth be told, I had a role to play in the character traits she developed and displayed.
What God pointed out to me plainly, that I received eventually, was that it was NEVER about my opinion of what was the right or wrong way to raise our daughter. It was about me, me specifically, loving her through and despite circumstances. That was my assignment. Not loving who I wanted her to be or who she’ d become but loving her right there in the messiness of life. Loving her as Christ had so often loved me. Showing her mercy and appreciating every aspect of what was contributed by everyone, that made her the phenomenal woman of God she is today.
Ironically, she and I share so many similarities that aside from her being lighter complected, many don’ t know she isn’ t my biological daughter. I thank God she came into my life that day. She has enhanced my / our life in every way. She is my daughter and friend. She sharpens me, challenges me, and inspires me to be a better version of myself. She also teaches me and trains me and has taught me to find humor in the difficulties of life. She has always been a Godly bonus. Truly, my cup runneth over.
By: Genea Johnson
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