I was seated around the kitchen table with my three children, enjoying a cherry slushie on a summer afternoon. My thirteen-year-old Rachel, was talking about weight. I told her I had had trouble with my weight in high school and dieted to the point of becoming anorexic. I explained that I had grown up in a family where my parents were strict about their own diets, and thus able to keep trim. They valued being slender and made it a priority.

Looking back on my teen years, I wondered aloud if the reason I had had to struggle with my concept of food and eating was due to my parents' continual talk of maintaining their weight. "My friend Cathy had a problem like I did. But in her house, her sisters and mother weren't thin, so there was constant diet talk." Concluding my thoughts, I said, "Perhaps I felt I had to be thin in order to be accepted by my parents. Oh, well, every parent passes on something to their children. Some habit or way of thinking. No parent is perfect. I wonder what I'll pass on to each of you?" I looked at my three children's precious faces. Basically I was thinking, what will they bring to the therapist's couch years down the road and claim the problem was something attributed to my parenting?

I dismissed the subject and started to talk about next week when my kids would go back to school. It was then that Elizabeth wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear with the certainty of her seven years, "There is nothing wrong with you."

Wow! I felt as though God was seated right beside me and had revealed His acceptance of me then and there! There is nothing wrong with you! I hugged my daughter and smiled. "Oh, honey, " I said, "That is so sweet. Thank you." I didn't add, "And how long will it take you to retrieve that sentiment? When you turn ten or fifteen?"

I began to ponder Elizabeth's words as I continued my day. I wrote them in a notebook so I would not ever forget what she had said. How often we want to be told just those words. We wonder about our habits and behaviors, our weight, and what we are teaching our kids. Even in grief, as we cry or memorialize our loved one, we want to know that we are doing it the "right way." Don't we all want to know that we are doing the best we can in spite of our pain and circumstances? We thrive on knowing that we're loved and appreciated.

Recently I have felt vulnerable as we have had our twelve-year-old house on the market. After the house has been shown, the realtor has someone from her office call to give feedback on what the potential buyers thought of our home.

I have to cringe when I hear certain responses: "The paint colors are too strong." "It needs paint." And my most detested because I cannot for the life of me know how one could come up with this: "There was an odor."

This is the home where my son Daniel lived for his four short years. The weeping willow swaying in the front yard is his memorial tree. The garden on the side where we've planted tomatoes each spring is done in his memory. It is hard when anyone is critical of this sacred place where the memories are abundant and where we have laughed, loved, cried, grieved....and doubted.

Are we doing things right? Are we at fault? Is the house presentable? Will it sell? When? If it doesn't, is it because we somehow failed?

We feel we are being scrutinized because others are strolling into our abode and casting criticisms. We have scrubbed the kitchen floor and even burned floral scented candles. Do the viewers of my home know how much time it took for me to get the mildew off the shower? We want to hear praise, not complaints. We desire to hear, "What a beautiful living room and what a fantastic screened-in deck! Wow, this is a great house for such a reasonable price!"

Likewise, we want to hear that we did the best we could loving our dear family and friends who have passed on. We want to know in our heart of hearts that in spite of the streaks on the window panes and the stain on the carpet, we loved well. We were doing it right and we were accepted and adored.

"There is nothing wrong with you." I think that God, in His love, is trying to comfort me with those words each day. Now if I could take the time to believe them.