---
title: Brittany
subtitle: I met you for the first time when you were ten years old...
---
Dear Brittany

	I met you for the first time when you were ten years old, and I was just a young man myself at twenty-three. No one but God could have known I would soon call you my daughter. At that time, I was no role model, I was not a good man, and I certainly wasn’t a father by any stretch of the imagination. I was just someone trying to figure it out, a repeat attendee in the school of hard knocks. I didn't start off our relationship as a good example for anyone your age, but somehow, you seemed to love that about me. We were more like older friends than anything else. 

	My only regret is that I wasn't able to be a true father figure until much later in your life. While I wouldn't trade our relationship or any part of it, I’ve learned that a little foresight and responsibility on my part could have done you a lot more good a lot sooner. But looking back, I realize there was a hidden grace in it: you got to make your early life mistakes in a safe, friendly environment with someone who wasn't judging you. It wasn't until I finally had to step up and become your father that those two worlds truly clashed, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

	I will never forget the day you officially became my daughter. Amber and I went to pick you up from your mother's house for the weekend. When you came out, she searched your bag and found things I won’t mention, things no child should ever have to be confronted with. In that exact moment, my mind was made up: you needed to pack your bag with everything you didn’t want to live without, because we were going straight to DHS.

	In hindsight, that reaction might have been a bit rash. I wasn't accustomed to the reality that came with Amber. There was a world even lower than the hard drug scene I had known, a world you had known all your life, a world your parents and Amber had known all their lives, a world I had only heard stories about. It was a place where abuse and addiction masked love and caring. Notice I say mask, not eliminate.

	Because of the shelter I came from, I naively believed that what I was seeing meant your parents simply didn't love you. Nothing could have convinced me otherwise at the time. Though you were ready and willing to leave, the hard lesson I’ve carried since is that I robbed you and your parents of time you can never get back. I don’t regret saving you, but I can admit the blindness with which I judged.

	Amber and I went through several weeks of classes to become your foster parents, and it remains one of the greatest times of my life. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was doing something genuinely good. When your parents didn't show up for court, it infuriated me because I wanted them to fight for you; yet, selfishly, it also relieved me, because I wanted you as my daughter.

	Years later, after seeing your relationship with your parents as an adult, and especially after talking with your father a couple of years ago, my perspective shifted entirely. He confirmed my choice, and for the first time, I was able to see both of them in a light I had never considered before. It was a profound lesson: children don't just learn from their parents; sometimes, the grace we learn from our children teaches us how to be human.

	You and I both know we walked through some dark times. I don’t want to spend time recounting those fires, other than to say I would have endured any level of hell to see you become the amazing mother and woman you are today. Instead, I want to focus on the good things, the things I love about you, and the lessons your journey has taught me.

	I love that you know what you want and you go get it. It hasn't always played out in your favor. When you decide it's time to hold on to something, you refuse to let go, even when it cuts you deep. That tenacity has caused you a lot of pain, but I want you to know this is not a weakness, it is a virtue. It is what makes you someone worth knowing, someone worth loving, and someone worth looking up to. It is what makes you a true role model, not because you are flawless, but because of your absolute refusal to quit. You take the licks that come with your mistakes, you absorb the impact, and you keep moving forward toward your destination, no matter how much the path hurts. Some people call it being stubborn. Maybe they’re right. But it isn't bad. It is fierce, and it is admirable.

	I love that you always strive to belong. You care deeply what people think, but not in a poisonous way. You manage to stay entirely yourself while still bending just enough to make others comfortable. When you were younger, I mistook this for a sign that you would let people walk all over you. But I missed the deeper truth: your unwavering refusal to be anyone but yourself. Over the years, that trait evolved into a truly selfless personality. You don’t aim to please people just for the sake of it, you aim to make sure they are okay. You want them to be okay with you, okay with life, okay with whatever you can control for them. You don't break yourself to control the world, you simply provide a steady place for others to shine. And in doing that, you shine brightest of all.

	When Amber left and Tabitha came into our lives, things shifted drastically. Your stable home broke apart again, and I was deeply ashamed. I blamed myself. You deserved an intact, loving family, the kind you were finally getting used to. I thought for sure that rupture would break you and shatter our relationship forever, but I was wrong. Even though it hurt you deeply at the time, you came to love Tabitha and embraced that new household as another chance at a happy family. For a time, we were that.

	I will never forget the Father's Day you asked me to adopt you. I only wish we could have made that a reality before things got complicated again. I want you to know I don't blame you for how things unfolded later. Just like I said: you know what you want, and you go get it, no matter the cost. When you left, it tore me apart, and when you briefly tried to change your mind, I had to be the one to convince you to stay the course. It was time for you to finally rekindle that lost relationship with your original family, and staying with me would have robbed you of that healing. At that time, I wasn't strong enough or selfless enough to share you with them. I was still holding onto years of old animosity. You leaving was the only way you could truly know them, and ironically, it was the only way I would ever learn to see them outside the shadow of my own judgment.

	These are things I need you to know and remember. I am leaving them here, out in the open, so that you and the world will always have a first-hand account of the profound respect and love I have for you.

	You will always be my daughter. I will always tell the world you are my blood. I am endlessly proud of you, and I love you with every beat of my heart. I thank God every single day that He brought you to me, and that He kept bringing you back to me every time life tried to pull you away.

	— Love, Dad