My mother was a beautiful woman.

Even at the tender age of 11, I understood that. I think all my life, I've been worried that 11 years with her wasn't enough to have significant influence on my life, but I'm reminded by friends and family that they see a piece of her in me every day. It's truly my favorite compliment in all the world.

My mother used to read me poetry. Not the kind that children read, because I was always an old soul. She read me verses that spoke to herself, because I think she knew they would one day speak to me.

I remember one particular time when I had been bullied at school - a boy in my class called me ugly and then laughed all the way back to class. It wasn't the first time I'd been made fun of, nor the worst, but it was the first time I'd ever seen someone be so hateful and not have a bit of remorse about it. When I arrived home, Mom could tell something was wrong.

"What's the matter, Loosey-Goosey?" That's what she called me ever since I could recall. (I think it had something to do with roller blading over geese in a park one time, but she claimed it was because I was a free-spirited kid. We may never know.) I just mumbled as I walked to my room.

"Come'ere, I want to show you something." We went into her bathroom and sat on her vanity chair, where she read this poem:

After a while you learn the subtle difference 

between holding a hand and chaining a soul 

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning 

and company doesn't mean security 

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts 

and presents aren't promises 

And you begin to accept your defeats 

with your head up and your eyes open 

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child

And you learn to build all your roads on today 

because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight

After awhile, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul 

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

And you learn that you really are strong

and you really have worth

And you learn and learn

With every goodbye you learn

I was comforted by my mother's words, but at the time I thought she was crazy. A simple "Boys suck, and girls will always be too good for them" speech would've sufficed. But mom was intuitive, and she knew that one tough day when the world was just too big, I would need to read that poem again and believe in myself.

That same poem has hung in my bathroom since 1999. Some mornings when I'm drying my hair or nights when I'm brushing my teeth, I read that poem and remember the truth my mother spoke into me: I am strong. I have worth. And I'm constantly in process.

I pray that you, too, will let those words spill into your heart: Yes, you are constantly in process, but you are strong and you have worth.