To the younger mom I once was.

Dear Mama,

By now you know that there is big, often indescribable, joy in motherhood.

You also know that there is big, wild pain too.

Because you’ve been there when your sweet girls have scraped their knees, busted their lips, and bonked their heads.

And, as time goes on, you’ll see that they will continue to crash and fall and fail, get their hearts broken by their crushes, and — rest assured, Mama — when they get hurt, you’ll hurt too.

Those moments will tighten your chest, punch you in the gut, and squeeze tears from your eyes.

And, if you have girls — which of course you do — just know that nothing will sting quite like the bite you will feel when one of your daughters gets left out.

Being left out isn’t just painful for girls; it’s scary. Their hardwiring harkens back to the earliest times. If a girl was banished from the circle around the hearth back then, she’d be alone and vulnerable to predators in the night.

And Mama — when that happens, it’s going to sting, and you’re going to be furious.

You will want to call the mothers of the girls who edged your child out and give them a piece of your mind.

I know you’ll want to do that, because, when your girls are younger, you’ll actually do it. And most of the mamas you call up on the phone will recognize your pain, and they’ll even want to help you fix it.

But here’s the thing:

Scolding the girl who pulled rank and left your daughter out and demanding yours be let back in is not going to fix it.

It won’t mend your heart, Mama, nor hers.

Instead:

Be her circle.

Do what you can to create your own little circle around a fire — even if it’s just a party of one — and make sure she knows that the fire will always be burning, and you’ll always be there.

And when God graces her with siblings or cousins or kids of your friends who are more like family, do everything you can to cultivate and keep that small, safe circle she can always come back to.

Make it so that when she’s excluded from the exciting one — which, I promise, she will be — there is a circle for her to return to, where she’ll relink her arms with yours and settle in for one cold, lonely night, or stay for however long she needs to.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to say to my girls: Yes, it sucks, but you’ve got me.

Then, realizing I’m lightyears away from being their first choice, I actually say: Yes, it sucks, but you’re stuck with me.

Because they are stuck with me. And by some grace, I have two daughters, so they’re stuck with each other.

Let them always be each other’s circles.