Skip to content For years, my classmates took great pleasure in reminding me that I was “just the pastor’s daughter,” treating my background as though it were the punchline to a joke. I spent a long time simply ignoring their taunts, but when they attempted to mock me one final time on graduation day, I abandoned my prepared speech and finally delivered the words I should have spoken years earlier.
As a baby, I had been abandoned on the front steps of the church, swaddled in a yellow blanket that had one loose corner blowing in the wind. My dad, Josh, always shared this chapter of my life with profound gentleness, ensuring it never felt like a wound.
