December 2015
Eleanor, screaming, her little body stiff with anger and confusion.
Why am I having another child, when I can't even do a good job taking care of the ones I have?
Eleanor, lying beside me in the floor for hours, sweetly playing with the nativity characters. "Baby... Mommy... Daddy..." she says, pointing. Small white sheep clasped in dimpled fingers, tiny goats, a tortoise, and cream colored horses with stiffly flowing manes. The light is reflected off her face, her beloved, contented face.
Because they aren't yours. They are Mine.
I know one of the first things my children will have to do is forgive me for all the mistakes I've made and will make. It seems sometimes like having a Christian parent has been a stumbling block in my own walk with God; how could someone claiming to know and love Christ have been so flawed, made so many hurtful choices? They will have to ask this question, just as I have had to ask it, and may He answer it with his swift and gentle kindness.
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Lovely to hear from you!