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My Girl

There was a time when I'd watch with fascination as my friends interacted with their daughters.  I'd sit in great wonder thinking, "What would that FEEL like?"  My deepest passions lie in all things women, so I'd imagine that having one of your very own was surely a pleasure and a privilege like none other.  


Your own would mean that you could train her from the first moment to love and honor herself.  Your own would mean you could teach her about Grace rather than going it alone.  Your own would mean you could create a framework of understanding of her deep worthiness, unattached to ANYTHING.


"What would that FEEL like?"  I would ask myself.  I would stare and watch intently as my friends conversed with their daughters.  Wow.  What a calling.


Then, completely unannounced, she came.


The joy was too big to hold and I was unable to stay in the present moment.  I vacillated back and forth from 16 years in the future to 20 years in the past.  I had SO MUCH FEAR.

What if I screw this all up?  What if I ruin her life?  I don’t know how to raise a daughter.  If I can’t do it perfectly, I don’t want to do it.  There’s too much expectation.  There’s too much pain.

I felt my life spinning violently out of control.  I wanted to escape.  I prayed and hoped for a way to disappear quietly off the fast-moving train.



My girl wakes up every morning at 6:30.  In the dark she walks to her bedroom door and turns the squeaky handle.  I hear her little feet crossing the dark hardwood floors into my room.  She enters and stands still for a minute, hoping her eyes will compensate and give her something to work with.  Then she walks to the foot of our bed, climbs all the way up the middle of the mattress and jumps down between us.


I smell her long, unkempt hair and feel her cold skin.  I feel a diaper that’s due to be changed and wrap my arms around her, wanting to squeeze really really hard.  But I know my girl.  She’s there, but she doesn’t want to be held.  She doesn’t like squeezes or cuddles.  No thank you, she doesn’t want a warm blanket wrapped around her cold skin, and yes her disheveled hair is exactly how she wants it.  She would like us to get up and, sure, she’ll throw her diaper away if that will get us moving.


My girl has every nook and cranny of my heart.  The love feels like it might consume me at times, and that still fills me with fear.  Can I really do it?  Can I teach her to love and honor herself as only she can do?  Can I truly believe in Grace as I raise her?  Can I live in God’s flow rather than thinking I have to go it alone?  Can she and I both understand our deep worthiness, unattached to anything?


It doesn’t feel too hard, it just feels like focus.


Focus on my main objective and non-focus on everything else.


I think I can do it.


The good news is, every morning at 6:30, she gives me ample opportunity to try and try again.

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