“Let the hearts of those who trust in the Lord be glad. Look to the Lord and to His strength. Always look to Him.” (1 Chronicles 16:10, 11 NIRV) Friends, I’ll be mostly quiet on the blog this week. I’m seeking God to refill and renew my soul. Also, spending more time with the family. I do hope I get to reply to your beautiful comments from the Dream Again Series this week, however. I have a lovely guest writing today. Jennifer has a way of writing that stirs a desire for me to sit long with God so that I may hear Him speak. I know you’ll be blessed by her words. Thank you, friends, for everything.
Love: Pink Twirls and Fairy Wands
Father, I see her dancing, her eyes looking for me, her pink lips turned in a smile.
“Are you watching? Do you see me?”
I see you, dear one, your floaty pink twirls and pointed toes. I see how you lean, stretch, then turn and turn–arms overhead, head back, back arched, lemony hair pushed back from your eyes.
She is tender, Father. She takes in my emotions, a subtle sadness, a wave of irritation on my brow. Her sweet eyes look into mine before she declares, “Nobody loves me!” Eyes so big, watching mine. Waiting.
My heart breaks, “I do, and I am sorry I was mad. I never stop loving you.” And I hold her, her hot pink cheek pressed to mine. And later, in the car, she tells me again, from the booster seat behind, “Mommy, I know you love me, but sometimes I forget”.
“I know, honey. Yes, I forget those things sometimes, too. I need to be reminded.”
On the way to school, she grabs my hand, holding tight. She still wants to hold it, searches for it. The smoothness of her skin, the strength of her grasp, makes me catch my breath.
You know how she seldom looks straight in front of her, Father? There is too much to see, behind her, to the side. And walking is too easy, too predictable. Skipping, bouncing, leaping, spinning is much more fun. She lets me twirl her, her little hand up high, fingers holding mine, in circles, round and round. It is joy uncontained. This is delight for life–in the sparkle of eyes, in the bend of her arms and legs and head. I love to watch her move.
There is so much to celebrate. Why hold back?
In the front yard she searches for fallen flowers, bits of pine needles from the neighbor’s tree. She wants to play “Eye Spy” so she can show me the bursting red of the flower arching over our driveway. “Yes, I see. I hadn’t seen that before. That red is glorious, beautiful. Thank you so much for showing that to me; I hadn’t looked up yet.”
Remember to look up.
Other little girls will pack our house in the afternoon today. Fairy wings and flower wands, fairy boxes and magic fairy dust, ballet shoes and name bracelets. I see you, my ballerina girl, my fairy dancer.
She will shuffle out of bed and into the kitchen in a few minutes, pushing her hair from her face, blue eyes adjusting to the dim kitchen light, “Is my party, today, Mommy? Is it this morning-afternoon?”
“Yes, sweet one, it is today! We get to work together this morning to make the place beautiful.”
She is so beautiful, Father. Let me trust you with time, Father, with my baby. Oh, how she delights me.
At bedtime each night, after we talk to You, praising You for where we’ve seen You today, asking Your help in loving You more, she calls me in again. Each night.
“How much do you love me?”
“This much,” and I stretch my arms so wide I have to throw my head back and I can’t even reach that far.
And then she says, “Why do you love me?”
And I tell her the truest thing I can, “Because you are God’s girl. He gave you to us to take care of. I love you because He loves you, first. “
And she burrows down, deep under covers, her soft pink blankets, shredded now, over the years, clutched tight.
Give me eyes to see her as You do, Father. Let me take her in, holding it all loosely. My daughter, Your daughter. Your beloved, Your child.
Delight to my heart, my darling. . . I see you, too.
Thank You.
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Jennifer, voice finder and wife of a heart-warrior, in N. California, mothers three children and leads My Girls, a group where women gather to remember the truth of their identity, in God’s eyes. You can find Jennifer writing at youaremygirls.com and connecting on both Facebook at You are My Girls Community and Twitter at JenniferCamp1. She would love to have you join her there.