Wednesday, May 4, 2011


I am a mother of two precious young women. Here is a reflection of God's redemption and transformation, me and them - the two in one.


I remember like it was yesterday, love's hand caressing gentle the crown of her soft bald head, meeting bright eyes that smile tight. As her precious little grip held onto the newness of each rising day, I held on tighter still, with my own feeble strength, to a vow to do things right.

From the outside it seemed I was mothering a daughter--just like me.

In dim mirror she reflects my familiar image; i
n her heart and her mind, promised deep, she will grow to reflect His.

For she did not choose Him, but He chose her, and she will be His daughter and God Himself will be her Father. (John 15:16, Revelation 21:3)

My own imperfect hands cradle breath from heaven and my desire, a craving for something sacred, something real, and I long for all things good to be hers. But, as I looked away in the moment, days flooded quickly into years of heart strings ripped raw, brokenness leaving its remains.

Her sorrow eyes wept--just like me.

But His mercies are new everyday, and today I give ear to her sweet grown whispers of benevolence and favor. 
Sin hardness forgiven, melted away by divine goodness, love abounds. Redemption moves and He grows deep within her and fruit blossoms. I awe at heaven's grace given to me. Indeed undeserved. Her authentic beauty speaks of His loveliness, uninhibited confidence, gratitude for each blessing and breath. I ponder the depths of this gift of mercy. Humility floods my heart.

If only soft lullabies and warm bubble baths of a young mother's ways could lay firm foundations of compassion and forgiveness. But, these are not enough. Her 
soul windows beam light of a different builder, a holy builder, pure and bright. 

Upon Him she was cast from birth, He has been her God from my womb. He makes His face shine upon her, saving her with His unfailing love. (Psalm 22:10, 31:16)

Wisdom drapes her head like a rich, gentle silk scarf. Virtue and courage, her fragrant perfume. Blessedness and delight dance together, intertwined fingers of joy and gladness encircle my heart. Songs of worship flow heaven's rivers, love's original intent perseveres forth.

And, the broken past remains only as stepping stones, hurts and failings, her strong bridge to faith.

Faith prayers laid firm daily for her tomorrows are plenty,
mothering a daughter, 

daughtering a mother,
breath of heaven breathes through her on me.

Behold, [daughters] are a gift of the LORD, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Psalm 127:3

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