Since my earliest memory, I have carried around the feeling of not being loved. (It’s probably a side-effect of having been adopted.) As a little girl, I was fiercely jealous of anyone that I thought my parent’s loved more than me. As an adult, I sometimes fall asleep crying, resenting the invisible wall that keeps me from knowing the love of my husband, my kids, my friends and, most importantly, my God. It’s incredible frustrating – hearing and knowing logically that you are loved, but struggling to rest in it; never fully believing that anyone (God most of all) could love someone with as little to offer as me. It may sound pathetic…..unless you’ve lived the battle yourself. Yesterday, I was thinking about plants (yay spring) and roots and fruit-bearing and how they parallel with life. Naturally, I turned to Ephesians 3. Here is what I read: For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the rich...