She Became the Safety Matthew 6:9-13 - Personal blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

I became the woman I needed as a child.

Not all at once.

Not perfectly.

But deliberately.

I became the mother who listens without rushing.

The friend who stays.

The safety that does not disappear when emotions grow loud or inconvenient.

The arms that do not withdraw when tears come unannounced.

I became her.

The little girl inside me learned early how to be quiet, how to be strong, how to be “good.” She learned how to read rooms instead of being read herself. She learned how to survive absence—how to soothe her own fear, how to cradle her own disappointment, how to make herself smaller so others could feel comfortable.

She needed a mother.

She needed softness without strings.

She needed reassurance that did not depend on performance or perfection.

She needed someone to say, You are safe now. You do not have to earn love.

And so I chose to become her safety.

Not because I had it modelled perfectly—but because I refused to let the pain continue unexamined, unhealed, unnamed.

I mother her now in the ways she once longed for.

I speak gently to her when she is afraid.

I validate her emotions instead of dismissing them.

I protect her boundaries instead of sacrificing them for approval.

I sit with her grief instead of asking her to be strong.

I do not abandon her when she feels too much.

And in loving her, something miraculous happened: I healed, too.

I began to understand that the wound was never about being unlovable—it was about being unmet.Unheld.Unseen in the ways a child deserves to be seen.

God was with us then—even when it didn’t feel like it. Even when prayers sounded like whispers swallowed by ceilings. Even when comfort didn’t arrive in the way we needed.

Our Father in heaven,

hallowed be your name,

Your kingdom come,

Your will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.

And forgive us our debts,

as we also have forgiven our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from the evil one.

Matthew 6:9-13

He was with the child who didn’t know how to ask. He was with the woman who would one day choose to break cycles rather than repeat them.

Both were me.

And He never left either of us.

As a woman of God, I did not heal by pretending the past didn’t hurt. I healed by telling the truth. By naming the ache. By refusing to pass down silence, emotional absence, or unresolved pain.

I chose to end generational trauma not by condemning those before me—but by choosing differently.

I chose softness where there had been hardness. Presence where there had been absence.Compassion where there had been dismissal.

I am still healing. And that matters.

Healing is not a destination—it is a relationship.

One I am building daily with the little girl who still lives inside me.

I am her mother now.

I am her sister.

I am her protector.

I am her witness.

I remind her that she is not too much. That her emotions are not burdens. That her needs are not inconveniences. That love does not leave when things get hard.

And when I falter—when I feel overwhelmed or unsure—God meets both of us there, too.

He holds the child with tenderness.

He steadies the woman with strength.

He reminds us that transformation does not require perfection—only willingness.

I am becoming whole not by erasing the child I was, but by loving her into safety.

And in doing so, I am rewriting the story.

Not with denial. Not with bitterness. But with faith, courage, and love.

This is what breaking generational trauma looks like: a woman choosing to stay, a child finally being held, and God—faithful, patient, present—walking with both of us home.

Lord, I bring You the little girl I once was—the one who learned to be brave before she learned to be safe. The one who waited for comfort, who longed to be chosen, who tried to be good enough to be held.

You saw her. Even when no one else did. You stayed with her in the quiet, in the confusion, in the moments when love felt conditional and fragile.

And I bring You the woman I am now—still healing, still learning, still choosing differently. Thank You for the courage You placed in me to break patterns that were never meant to continue. Thank You for the strength to sit with pain instead of passing it on.

Teach me how to mother myself with Your gentleness. How to speak to my inner child the way You speak to me—with patience, truth, and mercy. Help me to protect her innocence, honour her emotions, and never abandon her in moments of fear.

Heal the mother wound, Lord—not by erasing the past, but by redeeming it. Fill every place where love was absent with Your steady presence. Let what was once fractured become whole in You.

When I grow tired, remind me that healing is holy work. When I doubt myself, remind me that You are near. When the child in me still aches, hold her close and teach her that she is finally safe.

Walk with both of us, God—the woman and the child—as we continue becoming. Let our story be one of restoration, not repetition. Of love chosen, not withheld.Of grace that reaches across generations.

I trust You with every version of me. Thank You for never leaving either of us.

Amen.

She Became the Safety Matthew 6:9-13 - Personal blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.

She Became the Safety Matthew 6:9-13 - Personal blog of Trisha Rapley, Australian Author.