As I sit here and look at my daughter with a small dull pencil in her hand tracing the outline of her small fingers, one at a time, carefully and precisely, paying attention to every curve, I intentionally pause to tuck every detail of her away in my memory. Her head tilted, lips pursed and eyes locked as the pencil brushes each knuckle and crevasse.
I try and soak up every little thing about her. Her shoulder length hair, stringy from the spring winds, her narrow waist and porcelain skin, pure and untouched. Before my eyes here little body has stretched out, leaving behind her chubby cheeks and toddler tummy. She is approaching childhood while I am grieving the blankie toting bundle I snuggled a few months back.
She is finding her voice these days. Standing up for what she wants, also demanding her own way, a side I am not accustomed to. While trying to bend her strong will, I am relieved she has one, it will serve her well one day. Her feelings are fragile and her tears are quick to well, but her courage and strength are budding, as she begins to unearth confidence and self-worth.
As mothers we get to see these little creations bud and blossom into such beautiful lives, we must pause and look up from the laundry pile and the grocery list of motherhood, step outside of our roles and awe at the work God is doing beneath our nose. He is shaping and forming little people right in front of our eyes. Little people who will someday be HIS voice on earth, who will be HIS hands to the poor and HIS feet to the gospel. May we not be remiss and savor the moments of purity and perfection, the sweet drops of innocence as we raise up the next generation to do HIS will.