Daughters Like Me

You.

From the moment I first laid eyes on you, all seven pounds and wide-eyed, I was breathless in awe. Our Father is such a brilliant Creator, and you are a marvelous work of art. I see His craftsmanship all over you – in your beauty, your logic, your intuition. And I’ve always found it so special to see little pieces of your daddy and myself in you – in the way you smile, or the way you look when you are sleepy, or the color of your eyes. I feel so happy when people say, “Oh, she looks just like you!” Thank you. I am so glad she is mine.

And at the same time, I see other resemblances between us. Like when you will argue until you are blue in the face before admitting that you could possibly be wrong. When you reason your way out of a mistake and end up convincing yourself that you were right all along. In those times, I think someone who knows me well could say, “Oh. She looks just like you.”

Or when you freak out every time we ask you to try something new…when you would rather miss out on the fun just to avoid the risk of failing. You look a lot like me.

So I want you to understand something.

There will be times when you come face to face with your sin and yet you dig in your heels because you don’t want to admit you were wrong…or when you are petrified of trying something new because you just might not be good enough…

And when those times come, I might confront you. I might say the hard words. I might push you toward that thing you are so afraid of. But I want you to know, dear one, that I understand and that I feel every ounce of your struggle and that I am on your side. I am on your side.

And you.

You, with your sweet, funny heart. Your daddy asked me last night, “Couldn’t you just eat her up sometimes?” Yes. Every single day. God gave you a free spirit and a tender heart and I love to see His handiwork in you. And when people say, “She looks a lot like you!” I smile and say, thank you. I am so glad she is mine.

And then there are those times when you start to crumble. You get so tired and overwhelmed and you just want to be at home instead of doing a million other things throughout the day, and you fall apart. I do that too. We’re just the same.

And sometimes you look us straight in the eye and lie. You don’t want us to know that you have disobeyed. You don’t understand that telling the truth is a thousand times better than lying to get out of trouble. Where do you get that from? I don’t have to look far.

So please hear my heart. When you want to hide from the world…when you are afraid of what will happen if you tell the truth…I get it. I might make you go out of your comfort zone. I might bring unpleasant consequences when you lie. But you must know that this is because I love you infinitely, and I can sympathize with your struggles, and sweet girl, I am on your side. I am on your side.

 

And God help me, I want to show you the grace that I have been shown. Because I have a Father who sees every single one of my failures and still delights in me. I have a Savior who knew exactly how messed up I am and still died for me. I have a God who walks with me and shepherds me with infinite love and compassion and whispers…

I am on your side.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know how hard it must have been. Until I had three babes of my own, I didn’t know how exhausting it is to go for months on end without one solid night of sleep. I didn’t know how even the sweetest chatter and the most innocent questions, when incessant from dawn till dusk, can threaten someone’s sanity. I didn’t know that the fear of being buried alive by an ever-growing laundry pile is a real thing. I didn’t know how daily responsibilities like cleaning and paying bills and always and forever feeding little people could fill up the day until you realize that is all you did today.

I know you must have felt those things too. But when I look back at my childhood, I do not remember the you that was tired or frustrated by life with three kids. I remember the you that always had a silly song in the morning and a special nickname for each of us. I remember the you that listened to my never-ending chatter with a smile. I remember the you that created special little traditions like having sausage and cheese balls on Groundhog Day, or green grits and green eggs on St. Patrick’s Day.  I remember the you that always reminded me as I walked out the door as a teenager, “Remember who you are and whose you are…”

So I’m trying to do that still. I’m trying to remember that I am equipped for this task, that I have everything I need for life and godliness, that I can do all things who Him who gives me strength. I’m trying to remember your favorite question, “Is is going to matter in eternity?” as I fill up my days. I’m trying to remember that I am chosen for this task, and that if at the end of the day I have loved well, then that is enough. 

I’m sure at times you felt like a failure. I feel it so acutely myself now. But seeing God’s faithfulness in your life, His strength in your weakness, and the simplicity of providing a home that made us feel safe and loved, gives me hope and courage. 

When I was young, you were my mom. Now, you are my hero. I love you a million, a thousand, and six!

A Pretty Voice

Sometimes you take the breath right out of me.

Like tonight, when in between bites of pizza, you looked up at me with old eyes in a five year old body and said, “Sometimes you sound like, ‘Go to your room! Now!’”

My heart sank. I do?

“And sometimes you use a pretty voice like you are using right now.” And you returned to your pizza.

And just like that, you held up a mirror and I saw…a little more clearly than I would have liked.

If I stop and rewind the day in my mind and listen to it, there are times I don’t hear a whole lot of pretty. What I do hear is…

Frustrated

Angry

Impatient

Annoyed

Tired

That’s not what the voice I want you to hear.

God, I whisper, my eyes clenched shut. I only want to use a pretty voice.

All the time I ask you, What are two things that our words can do? And you know the answer – build up or tear down. And again I ask, What are two things that our words can bring? Life or death, you recite back to me. And always I say, How you say something is just as important as what you say. And you nod.

But what is my voice telling you?

The conviction is strong, and the regret is large, and the determination is there at the end of each day. Tomorrow will be better…Tomorrow I will give life with my words…Tomorrow I will only use a pretty voice.

But I cannot do this by sheer determination. I need the humility to see how deep the problem runs. I need a Savior who has done this whole human life perfectly. I need His Spirit to bear fruit in my life and change my heart and then my voice.

“Faithful is He who has called you, and He also will bring it to pass.”

So bear with me, sweet girl, and maybe you will see the grace your mama needs and the Redeemer who gives it.

In All Circumstances

I had a moment the other day.

It was 4:00 PM and I was tenaciously trying to get supper in the crockpot (yes you read that right) because it was on my list and, while logic clearly says that 4:00 is much too late to be putting supper in the crockpot, for heaven’s sake, logic is clearly not a part of my life right now, and the to-do list is the only thing that is keeping my postpartum brain from completely falling apart. And while I was in my crockpot frenzy, my normally easy-going 2 week old decided to put on his fussy pants and I had to strap him in the front carrier to keep him calm so I could get supper ready 6 hours too late. And while I was running around the kitchen with an infant strapped to my chest, I heard a cry coming from the living room and walked in to find my fully potty-trained 2 year old pulling off her pants that she had just pooped in. And while I tried to make the least possible mess removing the poopy pants, I glanced out the window and saw my fully capable 5 year old riding her bike in the driveway with no pants on, in full view of all the neighbors who were getting home from work and school at that very moment. 

It was an instance in time when my life seemed epically mundane.

Give thanks in all circumstances.

I am thankful. I am thankful that the half-cooked crockpot dinner means that we have food in our house at all. I am thankful that the tantrums and poop and half-dressed kiddos mean that I have a quiver full of blessings from the Lord. I am thankful that even in my most frustrating moments, things are never as bad as they could be.

But, even though it is good and right to be thankful for these things, it is really not enough. Because, as overwhelming as my moment seemed the other day, it really doesn’t hold a candle to the kind of suffering and trials that make it hard to be grateful. Because there are people who have an empty womb and an empty house and empty dreams. Because there are people who live with excruciating physical pain or unspeakable grief and who cannot even crawl to the throne to utter an “at least it’s not as bad as it could be” kind of prayer. Because there are people in this world who really cannot give thanks for their circumstances.

But that’s not what we are commanded to do anyway.

Give thanks in all circumstances.

I am redeemed. I was lost and blind and dead and enslaved, and my Creator made Himself small and put on flesh and came to this cursed earth to buy me back with His very own blood. I can give thanks for that in all circumstances.

I have a promise. A promise that nothing in this life goes to waste, that God works all things together for my good, that my sanctification is sure and my future is secure. I can give thanks for that in all circumstances.

I have a Helper. He is the God of all comfort, He is eternal wisdom, He is sovereign and wise and good. He directs my path and never leaves me or forsakes me. He is a rock and a refuge, a sun and a shield. He is eternal and immutable and perfect. He is my Father, and I can give thanks for that in all circumstances.

So on the mundane days or the perfectly smooth days (do those exist?) or on the worst day of my life, let me remember this: A heart of gratitude is more focused on the Lord of the circumstances than the circumstances themselves – Because while circumstances are up and down and always shifting, our Father is unchanging and is always good.

In all circumstances.