It’s morning and midnight and her breakfast birthday cake sits in the oven and the timer ticks down slowly one moment at a time.
And I’m lost in memories.
12:10am and I cream sugar and butter but I remember so clearly the knowing I would hold her soon.
It seems fitting that today of all days, this one would honor Him as the God of the impossible.
Because that is what it all is.
And when her eyes open she will be six and all those sleepless nights that seemed endless and so long are gone – and those nights when she screamed and I swore I’d never want them back?
I want to walk beside that mama and wrap my arms around her aching heart and her restless baby and tell them both they’ll get through this. They’ll get through the exhaustion and the tears and the brokenness of it all and they will find Jesus there in the middle of it all – that He, impossibly, is holding it all together. Holding us all together…
I want that mama to know that each scream, each strong willed shout isn’t breaking her, but is being used to make her stronger, putting a bit of steel in to her soul – that Jesus is using all of it to make her into the mama that this little one needs.
She looks at me, just the other day, and I can see how my hurry has hurt her and I take a deep breath, get down to her level and I whisper just how sorry I am.
She measures me with her eyes, her feet set just so and she reaches across the ache and cups my cheek with her hand,
I forgive you, mama.
And I am reminded just how impossible forgiveness really is. How broken without Jesus we really are and how precious His mercies are, every morning, letting us gasp in the new air of a new day once more.
That angel, so long ago, leaned in close to a young girl and shared a glorious secret,
God of the Impossible – You remind me, everyday, through this strong daughter of mine just how possible everything is when You are in the middle.
Your Hands formed each part of her body, strung the strands of her DNA and set her wild heart in motion. You know her so well, so deeply and that You would allow me to be her mama? It is a gift that leaves me shaky under the weight of it all.
Mama-ing her well? An impossible task, unless the Hand I cling to is the Hand that knit her together in the deep of me. Nothing is impossible with You – You call life into the barren places and You still raging storms with one word.
You formed the wild places deep in my Olivia and You know how quickly my heart becomes overwhelmed – but in the middle of the raging Your Voice calls for Peace and the impossible happens – the whipping winds still and we see You as Lord.
God of the Impossible – God Who formed Olivia and chose this day as her own – please keep her as Yours. Keep her heart seeking You. When the world stacks up against her and it all seems impossible to stand, let her remember…let my heart remember…that with You, the barren places in us stretch and fill with the miraculous.