and maybe...just maybe...that was His grace.
so tiny and fragile, i held her newborn self in my arms and fell in love so deeply while that thought kept nagging at my heart.
she'll turn 5 and your paths will separate.
i turned 5 and only weeks later, i knew more than a child ever should.
i don't remember what innocence feels like.
how do i encourage her to revel in the joy of childhood innocence when it's a foreign place i've never been to, lost without a map that was ripped out of my hands?
she turned 5 while i was still reeling in the loss of our home, our community, our friends, our family.
she turned 5 when the question of where hadn't yet pointed to here.
she turned 5 with a broken heart and confused eyes and we clung to the only thing stable in the midst of it all...
we clung to each other.
and we clung to Him.
she'll turn 6 in 2 and a half months.
and as the pain has lessened and healing begun, my eyes have been opened to the otherness of them.
here, without the distraction of a life uprooted and broken completely, He invites me in to look below the childishness (because, truly...that is what children are.) He invites me to hear beyond the noise (because that is what children do.) and He invites me to look deep into the squabbles (because each one has a sibling they need to learn with...) and into the heart of it all.
in the midst of everything here, void of the pain of there, i see innocence. full and bright. dancing on their toes and twirling in their hair.
i hear innocence in their voices that sing, in the stories they tell, at the jokes they whisper that make sweet bellies laugh.
i breathe in the air that is alive with imaginations untainted by things they shouldn't know. my precious girls, they dance and sway and dream of babies and homes and princes who look like their daddy...
i turned 32 and only a few short months later i realized the gift i was given here in the midst of finding our place and fulfilling our story.
and i give thanks on this sixth day of this month that finds me here...and the innocence He gives, no matter the age.