From the moment she was born she stuck her tongue out. How I love those drools and poses of concentration. It was just her and I yesterday morning and I treasured the moments ... it wasn't that long ago that we spent our hours, awake and asleep, together.

In the recliner for weeks as my stomach healed. A blessing in retrospect. Forced to sit and enjoy. To rock and hold tight the most precious of gifts. Directly from God.

So, I watched these little feet as they were crossed. Wearing her sister's shoes that had long been tucked away for these days. Her hands pulling out and putting back in the crayons that she has longed to play with. Now she has full control of them as Mazie is gone. She delights in sitting beside me, showing me the different colors, offering me the broken, blue one. My content, little bug. How you've won my heart.

These eyes looking with wonder at her new book. A book about life and how it began. A book about grace and miracles. A book about how she will always be loved and how she need not be afraid. She has always been eager to learn. So curious and determined. She listened to me as if I were divulging great secrets. And perhaps I was.

She is a daughter of the Almighty. Wonderfully formed. He calmed the seas ... just as he will calm her heart in the darkness of bedtime. The smallest of teachings about His magnificent love. 

Today she told me she wanted to marry baby Jesus. Tonight we prayed over her room. And when her sister was crying from teething pains we prayed for her. Bedtime was peaceful tonight. No fear. No worry. She is beginning to understand, in childlike fashion, that she is never alone.

Oh, and this hand. This hand that writes papers and takes tests and works tirelessly to finish the degree that he for so long dreamed of. This hand that has spent hours drawing and writing in journals. Recording his most treasured moments.
This hand that held mine as they rolled me into the surgeries to retrieve our babies. This hand that gently pulled back hair from my eyes as he spoke, 'I do' with gusto. This hand that rubs my back as I fall asleep and is placed gently on my shoulder as I share my defeats and victories.
And now this hand is a comfort to our children. A tickle bug. A strong guide to hold onto in the parking lot. This hand is more than flesh and bone to us.