A prayer for my daughter on her big promotion

It’s been 730 days now that we’ve had the blessing of knowing your little face–your brow that’s crinkled in concentration from the very beginning, your wide eyes that have since shifted from deep blue to greenish hazel, your perfect button nose in the middle of those soft, cherubic cheeks, your bouncy waves ever-increasing in thickness, your sunshiney smile that could light all the darkness.

It’s been more than a million minutes that we’ve had the honor of seeing into your little soul–how you study and observe and analyze something until you feel confident enough that you won’t fail if you try, your methodical way you go about completing a task, how you find security and contentment in routine, the way you wear your emotions on your sleeve, just like your mom, and how there’s a constant song in your heart that dances freely off your lips, just like your dad. 

 

One of your favorite pastimes, cozying up to a good book.

 
Today marks two years we’ve had the privilege of being your parents. 

In the last year, you’ve gone from crawling babe to toddling beauty. You love animals and flowers, music and stories, walks and swims. You can count to 10 and sing your ABC’s, name colors and shapes, and put together a puzzle like it’s your job. You speak in two- to three-word sentences, but can sing nearly all the lyrics of many songs on your own, your small, sweet voice often drifting from the back of the van during a drive. You can’t start the morning off right until you’ve “read” your stack of books we keep at the foot of your bed. You enjoy watching Daniel Tiger, Mother Goose Club, Kipper the Dog, and Super Why. And at the end of the day, you love to “dance in the shower,” whisper “I lub you” and blow kisses, and find solace before slumber with your papi and Nu.

You’ve grown so much in the past 12 months–it’s clear you are a baby no more–but this next year brings your biggest milestone yet. In fact, in just a few days, you’ll relinquish your spot as only child and step up to the role of older sister.

It will be a challenge and will stretch you–and us–for sure. One that we can only tackle with the Lord’s help. And so I am praying for you, my dear daughter, as we prepare to welcome our next.

 

I’m praying you’re open to what’s ahead.

 
I’m praying you’ll look on your sister with love, and your smile will spark hers. That you’ll wrap her up in hugs and tenderly kiss away her tears. That you’ll share hours of endless giggles. That after you fight, you’ll forgive easily and move on effortlessly. 

I’m praying you’ll encourage her when she tries something new. That you’ll lead by example. That no one will dare mess with her when you’re by her side.

I’m praying we’ll face years to come of finding the two of you sneaking into each other’s rooms after dark, whispering secrets and swapping stories. Because no one else will quite understand. Because you share the same blood.

I’m praying she’ll desire Jesus because she sees you do. That you’ll grow in grace together. That you’ll openly share what God is teaching you and be honest about your failures and show compassion and understanding for hers. 

I’m praying that you’ll have a relationship that extends beyond these walls and your time spent with us. That she’ll be the one you call from college to tell about your adventures and stresses, first dates and heartbreaks. That you’ll choose to spend free time together, even if it means traveling hundreds of miles. That you’ll stand by each other on your wedding days. That you’ll hold each other’s babies with love bubbling forth like they are your own. That nothing in this world will make your dad and I prouder than the two of you.

Yes, this next year will be big. And it may seem scary and confusing and maybe overwhelming at times as you settle into this new space. But as the days go on and the decades pass, I pray you’ll look back at this year as one you’ll cherish the rest of your life. Because it’s the year you met your best friend. 

 

Such an exciting time to come with so much to celebrate!

 
” … Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.” (Ruth 1:16)

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What to do when waiting robs your joy

It’s amazing how quickly you can turn to despair when you are physically spent.

After about a week’s reprieve from the nausea and vomiting that returned at the 32-week mark of pregnancy, I was completely caught off guard when it came roaring back yesterday. Add this on top of my already-depleted energy from 3- to 4-hour stretches of contractions less than 5 minutes apart for the past few days, and I rapidly spiraled downward.

I have just two weeks left at most in this pregnancy, and yet, it’s as if time was standing still. And it’s like the lack of physical strength in my body also drained any mental capacity I had to cast reason and perspective on my present circumstances.

My thoughts grew increasingly dark and hopeless as the hours dragged on, knowing that it’s not exactly going to get any easier dealing with a newborn, toddler, and c-section recovery once this uncomfortable gestational period was over. While I knew I had many things to be grateful for–an incredibly helpful husband, a generally easy-going toddler, a healthy baby growing inside me, and the end of pregnancy just around the corner–it was like I could only focus on what I couldn’t do. That I couldn’t get off the couch and play “get you” with my girl. That I couldn’t muster enough strength to make it to the grocery store. That I couldn’t enjoy our last days as a family of three the way I wanted. That I couldn’t make the clock go faster.

Behind the smile, I’ve been masking my despair.

As I laid there wishing away each overwhelming hour, desperately wanting to be done with this miserable stage of limbo, I knew I was being short-sighted … and yet, too exhausted and numb to change my thoughts. Even that seemed like too much.

But I also knew my despair, anxiety, and impatience was destroying any ability to see the joys of each day. I never have cared too much for the well-meaning phrases of “it’s just a season” and “this too shall pass,” because I know that when you’re focused on simply speeding to the end destination, you can miss many moments of wonderful along the journey.

So I started to pray for The Lord to renew my thoughts, instead of just replenish my strength, and I knew others were praying too. This morning, I woke in a haze after a night of intermittent sleep to find this Scripture someone had shared on Facebook as encouragement, and it was just what I needed.

“Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. O my people, trust in Him at all times. Pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge.” (‭Psalms‬ ‭62‬:‭5-8‬)

As I meditated on His Truth, I prayed that God would help me wait quietly during this time of turbulence and calm my soul enough to see all that is praiseworthy. I got up, turned on the bathroom faucet, and immediately the lyrics of “Great is Thy Faithfulness” filled my mind: “strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow.” Yes, Lord. You promise that. And I can cling to it.

Pretty much all I want to do these days …

Instead of solely focusing on how tired I felt and how much I wanted to crawl back in bed and for the day to already be over, I decided to write down every time I encountered a blessing, starting with the fact that the sun was shining on this first day of September, the month we would welcome our new daughter into this world. I didn’t want the moments of wonderful to pass me by, unseen and uncherished. As my list quickly grew, I saw just how much I had to be thankful for.

  • A toddler who slept in
  • Coffee
  • Greetings of “mommy, up?” when I entered her room, her invitation to come snuggle in bed and read a book
  • Her sweet request to read “Sister,” and how she talked about the different ways she can help with baby after we read each page
  • Her polite, sing-songy “all done” when she finished with breakfast, followed by a request for a “cloth cloth” to wipe her crumbs
  • Daniel Tiger (!!!)
  • Her eagerness to help me make banana bread and the feeling of her small, soft hands wrapped in mine as we stir, stir, stir
  • The songs that bubble freely and tenderly from her tiny voice
  • Feeling baby girl stretch inside, despite the discomfort it brings
  • Her spontaneous chorus of “clean up, clean up” as she puts the Play-Doh back into the container
  • Her quiet, steady breathing as she concentrates on transferring popcorn from one cup to another
  • Witnessing her imagination at work as she mixes and bakes in her play kitchen 
  • Opportunities for me to learn patience and show grace when I instruct her after she throws her toys on the ground in frustration
  • The way she crosses her ankles while she eats peanut butter and jelly in her booster seat
  • When she goes potty without any protest before nap (over a month now without an accident, though I may’ve just jinxed that … )
  • Carrying her to the bed with her head cradled on my shoulder as I hum a verse of a lullaby and rub her back
  • The privilege to read her a story from God’s Word (today about the boy king Josiah)
  • Kissing her soft, smooth forehead and thanking The Lord she goes down for a nap easily 
  • A long shower while streaming my favorite Getty hymns station on Pandora and praising God for helping me get through another morning 

Clearly, my blessings were bountiful, and this day was only halfway done. I knew I would long for mornings of these magical moments in the years to come. How could I wish this away? 

She can’t wait to meet her baby sister.

Yes, this month may get harder. And I imagine it will, with sleepless nights, and surging hormones, and cries that won’t easily be comforted. But I’m praying that God will not help me survive it–that He’ll instead show me His goodness and sustain me with His grace. That He’ll quiet my heart enough to see His beauty and blessings. That I won’t be able to deny the waiting was all worthwhile.

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever.” (‭Psalms‬ ‭73‬:‭26‬)