Wednesday, June 22, 2016

A treasury of small moments

I'm sitting here, holding my baby girl, and just looking at her. I don't want this moment to end, but I want to document it. So I'm voice typing this into my phone so my hands are free to hold my little one. I know so well that these moments are fleeting, that they'll end. I know that I won't always be her world. She won't always grin the second she hears my voice in the morning and her eyes won't always scan the room until they rest on me. So I cherish these moments. 

She was sleepy, and I was about to lay her in her crib, but instead I decided to hold her. To let her fall asleep in my arms, and to look down at her sweet little face. When I look at her, I'm overwhelmed by the responsibility I have. To pray for her, to invest character and knowledge and skills in her which will carry her through life. A responsibility far too huge for me-too big even for her dad and I. It must be the three of us: Ryan, me, and Jesus. It makes me want to walk closely with my Father. I need His daily wisdom and I need His perspective on how to raise this treasure. How to do you bask in small moments, and not let them slip through your fingers like sand? How do you recognize small miracles in the commonplace nuances of your baby's growth and development?

Two weeks ago, her tongue was always outside of her mouth. Licking things, sticking in and out like a little lizard, making us laugh. Last week, no more tongue. Instead, she spit and sputtered air bubbles constantly. It was the funnest past time for her little baby mind. She had discovered that her mouth could do something new. This week, no more spitting. It's yelling and screeching. Experimenting with her lungs at a decibel of – literally – 101. (Ryan measured it with his iPhone app.) she shouts with all the gusto her little frame can conjure, stiffening her legs, pointing her toes, and her little forehead growing red with the exertion. She makes herself cough, doing it, and her eyes grew wide as she looks at me with an expression of, "did I do THAT?" And I laugh, and pretend that I can't wait until the screeching stage is over,… But really, I'm cherishing it. Because it will be gone next week, and I wonder what the new fad of her little life will be then. I want to erect a monument honoring each phase, each stage, each milestone, so that they aren't lost. I'll forget some of them. I know I will. So all I can do is store them in my heart now, smile, delight in them, stop and take time to watch them. Parenthood is too precious to allow myself to do it on autopilot. I must stay engaged. I must learn to treasure small things. I must rely on Jesus to help me do so.

I'm drawing closer to Christ as I learn how to do this thing. I'm recognizing his Father-heart. I'm blown away with the budding realization that He delights in me like I delight in Gracie! Parenting is so choc full of poignant beauty.