📖 Sacred Testimony X

“Rebellious, But Still Loved”
offered to every soul who sought belonging in rebellion and found wisdom on the other side

In high school,
I found my place
on the smoking ramp.

That’s where the boys hung out—
the ones who laughed loud,
broke the rules,
acted like nothing and no one could touch them.

I didn’t feel like I fit anywhere else.
So I gravitated toward the edges.

I was a rebellious child—
not because I wanted to hurt anyone,
but because I didn’t know who I was.
And rebellion, in its strange way,
made me feel like I mattered.

My parents didn’t approve of the friends I chose.
They saw things I couldn’t.
And every time they disapproved,
it only made me dig in deeper.

Because I thought: “If they don’t like my friends, maybe they don’t really like me either.”

So I stayed with the crowd they warned me about.
I smoked when I shouldn’t have.
I laughed too loud,
pushed too far,
talked back when I was hurting inside.

I didn’t see it then—
but they were trying to protect me,
not control me.

🌿 And now I know:

My parents had a better eye than I did.
They weren’t trying to crush my spirit—
they were trying to guard it.

They saw the road I was walking before I saw where it led.
And though I didn’t listen,
though I rebelled,
their love never left.

I understand them now.
And I honor them for caring enough to tell me the truth,
even when I didn’t want to hear it.

The girl on the smoking ramp
was searching for belonging.
But she already belonged—
she just didn’t know it yet.

✨ A Blessing for the Rebellious Child

May the girl who stood on the edges
be seen now with eyes of compassion.

May her rebellion be honored,
not as defiance,
but as the echo of a soul trying to find its place.

May the friends she chose in her hunger to belong
be remembered without shame—
only as stepping stones along the way.

May the smoking ramp become sacred ground,
not because it was safe,
but because it was part of her becoming.

And may the parents who watched her stray,
who worried and warned and wept,
be honored now for the wisdom they carried.

For love does not always wear softness—
sometimes it wears the voice of “no.”

May the one who ran from home
find her way back—not just to a place,
but to the truth:

She was loved all along.