Dear Reader,

there will always be heartbreak in life.

I'm sure you have been a victim of this. It starts when you're six-years-old, and you accidentally leave your beloved doll on top of a bag in the airport, not realizing it's sitting there alone until you're miles away.

Your dog escapes from the backyard. You chase after it, wishing to catch her but knowing there's no real danger involved. Then before your eyes, she's hit by a car traveling far too fast to be in a neighborhood, and all you hear is your poor animal yelp in pain. Seeing her half walk half crawl to the edge of the street, leaving a trail of blood behind her, is more than enough to split a young girls heart in two.

I have always been a Daddy's girl. I love both of my parents equally, but for some God-given reason, I have a very tender spot in my heart when it comes to my dad. I went through a phase as a little girl where I had to say good-bye to my dad every morning before he left for work. I remember one morning specifically, when I was about seven or eight, when I awoke to the sound of my dad's truck starting in the driveway. My whole body started as I realized he was leaving and I had yet to say good-bye. I jumped out of bed, desperately trying to push down the fear that became a spark in the pit of my stomach. I flew down the stairs as that spark became a flame, burning my insides because I was afraid. For some reason, I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't say good-bye. My heart would break? His heart would break? Did my Daddy know that I thought the world of him? I had to tell him before it was too late. I ran out the front door and down the porch steps, pajama-clad and everything, and watched as my favorite man in the world drove away.

Dear Reader,

there will always be heartbreak in life.

I'm sure you have been a victim of this. So have I. It comes in different forms, but there is still the same feeling of resentment and disappointment, hurt and anger.

As the waves of pain come, don't try and stand up against them, for you will be knocked over by their strength. Instead, do as Shauna Niequist suggests in her book, Bittersweet: "Unclench your fists, unlock your knees and also the door to your heart, take a deep breath, and begin to swim. Begin to let the waves do their work in you."

Let the pain wash over your heart. Embrace it. Cry. Cry hard. Allow God into your heart, because when you feel the water is above your head and you can no longer breathe, you just might find in the end that He was holding your head up the whole time.