Let Her Be a Work in Progress

We don't have to say, “Be perfect,” for our daughters to hear it. Sometimes they hear it in everything we celebrate, everything we criticize, and everything we quietly expect from ourselves.

They watch us.

They watch how we talk about our bodies in the mirror. They watch what happens when we make a mistake. They watch whether we laugh at ourselves or beat ourselves up. They notice when we can't leave the house without fixing one more thing, when we apologize for how we look, when we call ourselves lazy, when we feel guilty for eating something we “shouldn't” have eaten, or when we act like rest has to be earned.

And without ever saying a word, we can teach them that being a good woman means having it all together.

So maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give our daughters is permission to be a work in progress.

She doesn't have to know exactly who she is yet. She doesn't have to have her future mapped out. She doesn't have to be the best student, the prettiest girl, the most athletic, the most popular, the most responsible, or the girl who never causes a problem. She doesn't have to get every friendship right. She doesn't have to make the perfect decision every time.

And she certainly doesn't have to look perfect while she's figuring it all out.

There is a difference between excellence and perfectionism. Excellence says, “I want to do my best.” Perfectionism says, “If I don't do this perfectly, I am not enough.” Excellence leaves room for growth. Perfectionism leaves very little room for grace.

And I think our daughters are carrying more pressure than we sometimes realize.

They are growing up in a world where their appearance can be photographed, filtered, edited, compared, commented on, and evaluated in seconds. Their accomplishments can become part of their identity. Their mistakes can feel permanent because someone might screenshot them. Their friendships can feel like popularity contests. And somewhere in all of that, a young girl can quietly start believing that she needs to become the “right” version of herself before she deserves to feel confident.

“Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,” and call insight your intimate friend,”

Proverbs 7:4 ESV

But what if we stopped asking her to become the finished version of herself?

What if we let her grow?

What if we let her change her mind? What if she discovers that the sport she loved at twelve isn't the sport she wants at fifteen? What if she struggles in a class? What if she doesn't make the team? What if she chooses the wrong friend? What if she says something she wishes she could take back? What if she gains a little weight during puberty? What if her skin breaks out?

What if none of those things are emergencies?

What if they're simply part of being human?

Your daughter doesn't need a mother who can prevent every hard thing from happening to her. She needs a mother who can teach her that hard things don't get to define her.

She needs to know that a bad grade doesn't make her stupid. A mistake doesn't make her a failure. A changing body doesn't make her less beautiful. A friendship ending doesn't make her unlovable. A difficult season doesn't mean she's falling behind. And struggling doesn't mean she's weak.

Sometimes the most important thing we can teach our girls is that growth is allowed to look messy.

We live in a culture that loves the finished product. The before-and-after. The transformation. The highlight reel. The polished picture. The perfect body. The perfect morning routine. The perfect grades. The perfect family.

But real life isn't a highlight reel.

Real life is becoming.

And becoming takes time.

There will be seasons when your daughter feels confident and seasons when she doesn't. There will be days when she makes healthy choices and days when she doesn't. There will be moments when she gets it right and moments when she absolutely doesn't.

Let her learn.

Let her experience consequences without making her believe she is the consequence.

Let her fail without rushing in to rescue her from every uncomfortable feeling.

Let her try something and discover she isn't good at it.

Let her be awkward.

Let her ask questions.

Let her wrestle with who she is becoming.

And most importantly, let her know that none of this changes her worth.

Because her worth was never dependent on how well she performed in the first place.

As Christian mothers, we have the beautiful opportunity to remind our girls that their identity doesn't begin with what they accomplish. It begins with who God says they are.

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” — Ephesians 2:10

She is God's workmanship.

Not God's finished product.

There is a difference.

She was created with purpose, but she is still growing into the woman God created her to become.

And so are we.

Maybe that's part of the lesson we need to model for our daughters. We don't have to pretend we've figured everything out. We can apologize. We can learn. We can change. We can admit when we were wrong. We can take care of our bodies without obsessing over them. We can pursue health without making our appearance our identity.

We can show our girls what it looks like to become.

Because she is watching.

And maybe instead of saying, “I just wish she were more confident,” we can start asking ourselves, “What am I teaching her about what confidence actually is?”

Confidence isn't believing you're perfect.

Confidence is knowing you don't have to be.

It's knowing you can walk into a room without having every detail of your appearance figured out. It's knowing you can make a mistake and recover. It's knowing you can hear criticism without letting it become your identity. It's knowing you can grow without hating the girl you are today.

That is the kind of strength I want for our daughters.

Not the strength to hold everything together.

The strength to know they don't have to.

So let her be a work in progress.

Let her grow.

Let her make mistakes.

Let her discover herself.

Let her learn that becoming stronger doesn't mean becoming perfect.

And when she looks at herself and sees everything she still wants to change, remind her to also see everything she is already becoming.

Because she doesn't have to earn her worth by becoming someone else.

She gets to become more fully herself.

And maybe that's what being a Strong Girl is really about.

Not perfection.

Not performance.

Not having it all together.

But knowing who you are, knowing Whose you are, and having the courage to keep becoming.

A Note for the Strong Girl

If you're reading this, I want you to know something: you don't have to have yourself figured out yet.

You are allowed to grow. You are allowed to change. You are allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. You are allowed to have things you're working on without deciding that something is wrong with you.

Don't spend your teenage years trying to become a perfect version of yourself.

Become a strong one.

A kind one.

A courageous one.

A faithful one.

A girl who knows how to get back up.

A girl who knows when to ask for help.

A girl who knows that her body is something to care for, not something to constantly criticize.

A girl who knows that her worth was never up for negotiation.

You are still becoming. And that's okay.

For the Mom Reading This

The next time your daughter makes a mistake, resist the urge to immediately fix it.

Instead, try saying:

“What do you think you can learn from this?”

The next time she criticizes something about herself, try:

“You don't have to love everything about yourself today to treat yourself with kindness.”

And when she feels like she isn't enough, remind her:

“You don't have to earn your worth. You already have it.”

Because sometimes our daughters don't need another lesson.

They just need a safe place to grow.

Celebrating my niece breaking the school record in all time kills and also hitting 1,000 digs.