Dear God...

Dear God,
As you know, there are certain things that make me teary: births, weddings, funerals, and baptisms.  I try my best and then the tears, they just start flowing. Beginnings, new starts of any kind and at any age, they just get to me, you know.  When they are with my family, I am broken.

It's hard to envision when you first have a baby how this thing called parenting works.  Thank you, God, that I didn't know what I was getting in to.  My heart growing this big, my house getting this crazy, and my babies growing up.  So bittersweet.

In the middle of the night, we tended to that crying baby.  Sometimes they just wanted a cuddle, sometimes hungry.  They trust we are there.  We didn't know what to do with colic, so we "wore" them.  24 hours a day.  Even went potty with them attached.  It was hard to believe then but those diapers might have been the most important act of service I had that day.  As it should be, sweet sweet babies.  They get to be 7 and take care of little sister.  And even take care of us at times.  It is you working.  Not me.

I sang them hymns taught generations ago while rocking them at night and at nap time.  They learned the words before they even understand God's unending love, compassion, faithfulness.  They learned worship.  We taught them Bible stories with big time Bible heroes and they are stunned.

Then they turn 7 and teach others their songs and stories. Songs with a message.  Stories too good to be true.  I heard her faintly upstairs singing those same songs.  By herself.  Then I found stacks of songs she had written on little pieces of paper.  Love songs to God.  Do I interrupt her time with you to selfishly be a part?  Do I let her have her time with you?  It is you working.  Not me.    

Bedtime prayers go from me and daddy saying them to little voices sharing their hearts.  Praying for the small little things that make God's heart smile.

Then they turn 7 and pray for everyone around them to know you.  And you wonder how big and gracious you are for a child to have a heart that big.  She has a heart for orphans.  And prays for kids to have families.  And isn't afraid to pray for big things.  It is you working.  Not me.

We taught them as toddlers to clear the table.  I didn't think through them throwing the whole plate into the sink.  But figured that works, too, especially when mama's tired.

Then they get to be 7 and clear the whole table without being asked.  Its you working.  Not me.

I wonder if I am teaching them in vain to turn the other cheek, offer kindness instead of shoving their way into the world selfishly.  Then they don't harbor grudges and live in freedom.  As it should be.  And they teach me what it means to truly forgive.  And I am humbled by their trust, and that they are now teaching me.

I get tired.  So very tired sometimes.  Why don't I ignore their bad behavior?  Why don't I look away?  And then I remember you love them too much to let them behave that way.  That it's about the heart.  Not what things "look" like to others.  I know that bad patterns keep them away from your joy- in spirit with others and with you.  I want the best for them.  It's you at work.  Not me.

And so they ask Jesus to live in their heart, trusting He is the way to God.  They feel their hearts heavy.  The weight of sin.  They feel the release of confession and energy of growth.  The joy of living for God takes over and their soul is right with you.  Then they hear "It is well with my soul" and they get it.  

And then they ask to get baptized.  

And there isn't any cute little white dress this time with fat little legs hanging out.  There isn't a baby bonnet with sweet plump rosy cheeks.  There isn't a big party at home with stressful meal plan and cake.  There aren't presents for mom to unwrap for baby.  Although that would be alright, this time we're partying with the whole church.

This time my 7 year old has made this decision herself.  She is ready.  She is alive with the Spirit.  She is growing up.  And, Lord, it is sweet.  The tears I have in my eyes are of joy.

So, Lord, when she goes down tomorrow and is raised from the water, may she understand how special this day is.  Publicly confessing you as her Lord and Savior.  May she look back and say, "That's one of my most important days of my life."

And I'm thankful.  I am humbled.  You are good.  You are everything.  And I am not perfect.  She is not perfect.  But together is perfect enough for me.

Just a little I love you to a God big enough.  Whose name is Good.  Sweet.  I trust you.  Even with the most precious things I have.  They are yours.

Love,
Me