Dear Baby Jesus

What they did really sucked.  It was a shitty thing to do.  It hurt so deep that you don’t think you will ever recover from the breathtaking pain of it all.  Even now, when you remember it , you have to stop whatever you are doing for just a second and catch your breath.

The worst part is that they want to pretend like nothing happened at all.  They want to move on and just get back to normal as soon as possible.  They want you to pretend with them that everything is fine and your heart was never broken.  They expect you to just play along.  They want forgiveness without having to acknowledge their crime.

They want a free pass.

Isn’t that what Jesus tells us to do?  To hand out forgiveness like candy?  Seventy times seven. Like we have an endless supply and can dispense it with glee like Oprah gives away new cars? “You’re forgiven! You’re forgiven! You’re forgiven!”

If there is anything I know about Christmas it is this- the message of Christmas is that forgiveness isn’t cheep and reconciliation isn’t easy.

Forgiveness is forged out of the pain and mess of a baby birthed on a dark, cold night, surrounded by filth and muck.  Forgiveness sent a young couple down a path of uncertainty and fear into a strange land as refugees without a home.  The narrative of forgiveness begins with the slaughter of innocent baby boys whose only crime was being born at the same time as God’s own son.  The narrative of forgiveness ends with that son’s agony and death, too.

So, you see? Forgiveness is more than a free pass.   Grace is costly.  When Jesus prayed, “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sinned against us,”  I think he knew what that prayer would  eventually cost him, what it had already cost him.  He knew the price of forgiveness was great, but he prayed it anyway.

Maybe you will never get the apology you need.  Maybe they will never acknowledge what they have done.  But God sees your hurt. God knows how much you want to forgive.  God knows the cost of reconciliation and that is exactly why the whole messy Christmas story began in the first place.

The truth is, like Mary and Joseph, we are refugees, too, right now.  We’ve been a little lost and wandering ourselves lately.  We want to forgive, but we don’t know how.  Surely God knows our sorrow.  Surely God see our tears.  Surely God will walk with us on our own Bethlehem journey from darkness into light.

So, in the Spirit of Christmas, this is my prayer for you and for me:

Dear Emmanuel,  
       God With Us, 
              Beautiful six-pound tiny baby Jesus with a perfect newborn cry-
Be here with us in our messy hurting hearts.
Bring us out of the muck and mire.
Bring us home to that place of healing.
Where forgiveness does flow freely.
Where grace abounds.  
Where love is given and then given again.  
Help us to say, “Just as I am forgiven, so are you.”

You are forgiven. You are forgiven. You are forgiven.

"I have called you by name..."

Sometimes he would wake up cranky.  Sometimes he would get mad at us for refusing to let him have some toy or treat that he really wanted.  He would cry and whenever we said his name, he would declare, “I not Carter!”  If we asked, “What is your name?” He would answer, “No! Not Carter!”  We would ask him if he was “Guo-Ran,” (his Chinese name) and he would say, “No!”  This would go on for however long it took us to turn his mood around and the only thing to do was hold him and say, “I’m your mommy.  You are my baby.”  Inevitably, he would find something funny that made him laugh and would then say, “Hi, Mommy! I Carter!”

These moments of toddler identity crisis were gut wrenching for me.   They spoke of the ongoing battle that must have been raging in his little heart, just beneath the surface of his normally joyful personality.  His inner struggle to put the pieces of himself back together; to understand his own place in the world and in our family.

There is a lot of debate within the international adoption community about names.  Before we found Carter, we had planned to incorporate our child’s Chinese name into his new name.  However, we found out that most abandoned children in China are left with no identifying information and are given names chosen by their orphanage director.  Their last name is often based on the name of their city and first names are commonly patriotic words.  Carter’s name, for example, meant “Strong Country.”  The Chinese government recently passed a law forbidding this type of naming system because, as you can imagine, a generation of orphaned children are growing up with stigmatizing names that clearly label them as an abandoned child.  So, we intentionally did not include Carter’s orphanage name in his new name.  When we adopted him, he became Carter Jack Allen.  Carter, the name chosen by his sister and brother, and Jack, for his grandfather.  At first, we called him Guo-Ran, then Guo-Ran-Carter, and eventually just Carter.

But he has another name.  The one his birth parents chose.  The one his birth mother probably whispered out loud before he was born.  The one he heard cooed over his tiny newborn face during the time before.  The time before he was left.  The time before he was found by strangers and no one knew his name.  (All the unknowns of this time before will probably always haunt me.)

Sometimes I wonder if he remembers it.  If he knows deep in his heart that he had a different name in that time before.  I wanted to cry, too, during those meltdowns, when he would scream, “I not Carter! I not Guo-ran!”   I wish I knew the name she had given this beautiful boy of ours, that mother from the time before.

I think we all have similar moments of identity crisis.

God has called us each by name.  We have been adopted as sons and daughters of God.  We have been given new names.  True names.

Beloved.  Chosen.  Daughter.  Son.  Redeemed One.

When we are happy and things are going well, we accept these names as our own.  But when we are hurt and broken, we claim they are not true.  We accept the other names that have been given to us.  Names we give ourselves.  Orphan names.

Lazy.  Ugly.  Failure.  Weak.  Unwanted.  Unloved.

To God we must seem a lot like a raging toddler.  “I am not Chosen!”  and “I am not Beloved!”  God is infinitely more patient than we know.  Even so, I think it must hurt His heart to hear us deny His love over and over again.

Your true name was a song whispered over you by God’s own self on the day you were born.  Your true name was known before time began.  It isn’t a secret.  It isn’t a mystery.   Your true name is etched in a manger and carved into a cross.  It is the very reason why God would leave the glory of heaven and enter into the universe as a displaced, minority, refugee child with kings and kingdoms hell bent on his destruction.  Your true name is the reason why your heart still cries out for justice when you see innocent life destroyed.  Your true name is yours, whether you accept it or not...

Beloved. Chosen.  Daughter.  Son.  Redeemed One.

It is through grace that we have been renamed  Beloved.  Grace allows us to hear our name, to know that we are Chosen and Redeemed.  But it isn’t enough for us to just hear.  Eventually, faith requires that we claim our new identity and accept it as truth.  Faith requires action on our part and the single most faithful thing we can do is embrace who we have been called to be without doubt or fear.  God wants to hear us say-

“I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine…”

When I picked up Carter from preschool this week, there was a group of older children passing us in the hallway.  They all saw Carter and said, “Look, it’s Carter! You’re so cute! Hey Car-Car!”

Carter looked at them and said in his most serious voice, “I NOT Car-Car!  I Carter Allen! This is Mommy Allen!!”  Then he pointed to a nativity scene on the wall and said,  “And that’s Bee-bee Jesus!”

I think that maybe, he’s figured it out.

For Little Ones Lost

I have never lost a child.  I have had two positive pregnancy tests and one signed adoption petition and every night I hold three sweet little ones in my arms and cover three little faces with kisses.  (I am an overly kissy-kiss-snuggle-squeeze-hug-me-tight kind of momma.)

I don't know the pain that mothers feel to have lost a child not yet born.  I can't say that I understand the sorrow of an empty crib, a quiet house, or unused toys.  Motherhood has been easy on my heart.

"Grown up doctors" (what I call doctors who take care of adults) deal with death on an almost daily basis.  They help their patients walk the final steps of life with as much dignity and as little suffering as possible.  Often there is tragedy and heartache, but sometimes, death comes as a mercy for an elderly patient who has slowly drifted away.  Grown up doctors spend a lot of time talking to their patients about end of life plans, living wills, and their DNR status.  Pediatricians, on the other hand, rarely deal with death.  We usher babies through their firsts....first breaths, first fever, first tooth, first words, and first steps.  We send five year olds off to kindergarten and tell mothers, "It will be ok. They will survive the first day of school and so will you."  We, like their parents, don't contemplate an end of life plan for most of our patients.  Losing a patient is always, always, a tragedy and rarely a mercy.  When we do deal with a child's death, it inevitably makes the world feel a little off balance.  We walk a little slower, talk a little less.  We want to call it a day and go home and cry.  We want to just stop, for a little while, and be angry at the injustice of it all.  We send our pediatrician friends messages that say, "Hold your little ones close tonight."  and we know that they will know what that means.  A little one is gone too soon and the only thing to do is go home, hold your babies tight, and cry more tears for the momma who has no baby to hold.

I went to seminary the first time because I wasn't sure if I even wanted to be a doctor.  I went back, ten years later, because I wasn't sure if I could stay a doctor and keep my faith.  How do we put the inexplicable suffering of little ones inside the paradigm of trust in a loving God?  That was the Big Question I wanted answered and why I voluntarily obtained a masters degree- for no other reason than to satisfy my own curiosity.  It wasn't until after they handed me my hard earned diploma, that I realized that perhaps there is no answer to my Big Question.  Anyone who thinks they know is fooling themselves. The one thing I did learn in seminary is this: God doesn't promise any answers to our questions, only that His own suffering presence will be with us in our pain.  My last project before I finished seminary was to write my own credo, my own statement of faith.  I decided that any statement of faith I wrote would have to include my Big Question.  Why leave out doubt when proclaiming one's belief?  I thought that I was writing a credo for me, something to help me sort through what I had seen and experienced so far as a physician.  Looking back, I think it was more than that.  I was writing a credo for me, for mothers and fathers whose faith has been paralyzed by grief, and for all the little ones lost.

A Creed for Little Ones Lost

I believe that you, little one, were made, designed, and hoped for

by the same God, the only God, who spoke the universe, the earth, and all things imagined into existence.

I believe that Jesus, beloved Son of God, was present at the dawn of Creation.  

That Jesus, the Eternal Creator God,

 sang the beautiful song that echoed throughout time and became your song. 

I believe that Jesus was loved and cherished by his own mother,

from his first breath until his last,

just like your mother cherished you.

And just like you, little one, Jesus knew suffering. 

He knew what it meant to fight for one last breath. 

He knew what it felt like to have every part of your body broken

and wounded beyond repair. 

He knew the loneliness of death;

Death that comes mercifully with the setting sun. 

But here is the beauty of Jesus’ story, and your story, too-

Jesus walked with you into death,

And then he forged a blazing path back to new life.

Jesus is alive, the Eternal One, 

waiting for the day when you, when I, when all of us 

will walk the Resurrection journey.

I believe that somehow, the Spirit of Life and Love, the Holy Spirit,

 was with you during every moment of your short life.  

This Flame of Love knew your heart and your sorrows 

and carried every tear to heaven 

as if each teardrop was a new, beautiful note of your timeless song.

Child, in the New Creation you will be even more perfect

 than you were in this one. 

You will talk and smile.

You will feel the sun’s warmth on your face and soft grass on your feet. 

Finally, I believe that Christ’s song is your song 

and your song is my song and we are not alone. 

We are part of the mysterious holy body called the church. 

The church is not just me (the living), but also you (the dead.)

The church is waiting for Jesus to return. 

We are hoping and believing that one day we will all sing together

 the song of the New Creation.

(This past week was Infant Loss Awareness Day and I have many friends who have shared their own grief as they mourn children who are with them no more.  I am sharing this creed for them, and for all of us who have come home and held our babies tight. )

A little post about the little ear

We took Carter to see specialists at Johns Hopkins last week to have his hearing and ears evaluated. I have referred to his hearing on the blog before, but I have never specifically discussed his condition. It his hard to balance the need for protecting your child's privacy with sharing on a public blog, but I thought I would talk a little about microtia and atresia in case any adoptive parents are interested in knowing more about this special need. Also, we have been asked a lot of questions by curious friends and family, and repeating the same conversation can start to get a little old. So, here is some information about Carter's "little ear"-

1.  The medical name for this condition is unilateral microtia and atresia. Microtia means his outer ear is small and not formed correctly. Atresia means his ear canal is not fully formed. There are varying degrees of this condition. Carter's is right in the middle. Some kids also have smaller facial bones or muscle weakness on the side of their microtia, but he does not. Some kids are born with bilateral microtia.  Sometimes microtia is part of a bigger genetic syndrome, but most of the time it is just an isolated condition that children are born with. 

Waiting for his turn to see the ENT-

2.  We learned last week that Carter's hearing is considered "perfect" in his left ear. In fact, the audiologist could not get over how well he seemed to hear.  Her biggest struggle with his hearing test was that he would not stop talking. "What's that?"  "Where'd it go." "Mommy, look!"  The test that he had done was meant to test his overall hearing based on his visual responses to sound. Which means, that we know his left ear hears perfectly well, and we assume his right ear has hearing loss, but we don't know EXACTLY how well he can hear from the right ear. Because his overall hearing is so good, and his speech is progressing rapidly, we have decided to wait before pursuing more detailed hearing tests like an ABR because those would require him to be sedated.  Eventually, he will need to have this done but there is no rush. The big question that we don't have an answer to yet, is how well his inner ear functions. The inner ear is the part of the ear that processes and transmits sounds to the brain.  There are AMAZING new hearing devices available that actually bypass the outer ear and middle ear and use the bones in the skull to transmit sound to the inner ear. For children with bilateral microtia/atresia, these special hearing aids can transform their lives from being almost completely deaf, to having near perfect hearing. It is amazing to watch as their devices are turned on for the very first time. If you want to have a warm, fuzzy cry session, go to You-tube and search "hearing for the first time."  

So, if Carter hears perfectly well with one ear, why would he ever need one of these hearing devices? The biggest reason would be because he wanted to hear out of both ears. At some point, he is going to get older and will be able to learn and decide for himself what he wants in terms of his ability to hear with both ears. We need two ears to localize sound. Only being able to hear from one ear makes it almost impossible to tell just by listening where a sound is coming from. It is also more difficult to filter sounds in a noisy environment. When he is in school, he will need to sit with his left ear closer to the teacher, etc.  We may decide to try one and see how he likes it, but he would have to wear it on a headband (since he doesn't have an outer ear to anchor it on) and I doubt he would keep it on for longer than a few seconds. 

3. Ear reconstruction surgery is on the horizon but not until he is 6 or 7. Those will be big decisions- especially what kind of surgery and where to go. There are two different approaches and just a few surgeons in the country who perform these types of surgeries. We are going to take our time and do lots of research before we make any decisions about this. Thankfully, we have time. 

Worn out from the long day in Baltimore...

4. Fun fact: if we ever want a modern day success story to give Carter of someone famous who was born with microtia, we can always tell him about Paul Stanley from KISS. Maybe our little music loving baby is destined to be a world famous rock star!

   

Extravagant Love

 This is extravagant love-

~Not complaining when dinner is late, boring, repetitive, totally disgusting, or not even on the table.  You keep the pizza delivery numbers on speed dial. All I have to say is, “P…?” and you’ve already placed our order. 

(Love is patient.)

~Getting the two big kids ready for school and out the door while keeping the littlest kid quietly entertained so that mommy can get just a few more hours of sleep after her long night spent with sick little ones in the hospital. 

(Love is kind.)

~Watching yet another episode of Outlander, even though you could care less if Claire ever makes it back to the 20^th century or if Jamie is or is not her soul mate.

(Love is not self-seeking.)

~Acting shocked and incredulous when I tell you I have lost almost twenty pounds in the last year and then saying, “Well your body has always looked the same to me- perfect.”

(Love keeps no record of wrongs.)

~Putting up with my latest crazy obsession and not pointing out that it is, in fact, a crazy obsession.  Like urban homesteading.  I know, the idea of me milking goats and keeping bees in the back yard made you want to scream….or laugh…or both. 

(Love does not dishonor others.)

Remember how smug we were when we planned our wedding ceremony and declared, “We aren’t using that scripture from 1 Corinthians 13.  Those verses are over used and not really about marriage, anyways.”  We thought we knew better.  Looking back, though, I think we missed the point.  Marriages begin for millions of reasons, but a good marriage is about nothing other than this: trusting in God, holding fast to the One who is our hope, and learning how to love extravagantly. 

None of these things I just listed would have made my list of what defines true love when we were younger and had more energy, more time, less money, and less wounded hearts.  Back when we were these babies...

 I didn’t know that love would look like this and I’m glad I didn’t know, because learning how to love and be loved are lessons meant to be learned along the way- especially love that grows from grace.  

This is my secret- you have always been my touchstone to grace.  During those awful, miserable, almost too much to handle years, when I was angry with God for all the things He hadn’t done and all the ways He hadn’t saved me from myself, I even told you the scariest secret of all: that I had lost my faith all together.  I thought you would be angry, but you stayed calm, let me wrestle with the darkness of doubt, and held tightly to Jesus for both of us until I found the answers I needed.  Giving your wife room to doubt, room to change, and room to grow-now that is love in its most extravagant form.  It sounds silly, but it is true: grace brought me to you, and time and time again, you have brought me back to grace.  

“Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly.

 And the best of the three is love.”

1 Corinthians 13:13 (MSG)

Four Months and a Day

Four months ago you were terrified and angry with the way your world had just been turned upside down. 

Today you spent the whole day laughing and playing games with your Daddy- who  you have already figured out is the fun parent. 

Four months ago you were spitting your food on the floor and throwing eggs across the lobby of our five star hotel. 

Today you only wanted to eat the meatballs in your spaghetti. I swear you ate at least ten. "Meatbops! Meatbops! More meatbops, please."   Then you did a little dance and ran to the door when we said it was time to go get ice cream. "I-ceem! I-ceem! Yes!"

Four months ago you would have nothing to do with your sweet Nanny who flew all the way across the world just to meet you and you refused to even be in the same room if you heard Papa's voice on Face Time. 

Today you couldn't wait to Face Time Papa and tell him "Happy Birday!" And as soon as you saw him on the screen you said, "Papa! Where's Nanny?"  You wouldn't even let your brother hold the phone because you don't share well right now, especially when it comes to grandparents. 

Four months ago you tolerated your brother and sister but just barely and as long as they didn't come near your toys or your food. 

Today I heard you tell your brother, "Comeeer...let's play!" You also know that your sister is the one who is most wrapped around your finger. She is pretty much at your beck and call and if you want it done, you ask her. "Cammy! Put Belle in crate!" (Because you simply cannot tolerate Belle being within 10 feet of you while you are eating a snack.)

Four months ago you cried yourself to sleep for hours. It still breaks my heart to remember the way you called for your Nai Nai that first night. 

Tonight you snuggled close while we read our bedtime books and you tried to read along.  "Goodnight three little bears.... mittens... kittens... moon....stars...Hush!!"  You smiled when I put you in your crib because you love to go to bed now. That is a miracle of no small significance. 

Four months ago I was the only person in your world who you would let hold, carry, feed, bathe, or change you. I loved doing all of those things, but let's not pretend it wasn't hard. 

Today you love your babysitters. And let's not pretend that isn't the best thing ever! Your Daddy and I can go on a date and you laugh and play and have a blast while we are gone. But as soon as I get home and scoop you up into my arms, you turn to your babysitter and say, "Bye-bye Rachels! See ya later, Annies!"  The fact that you put an "s" at the end of everyone's names is hilarious, but more than that, you have figured out that Mommy is Mommy and other people may be fun to play with for a little while- but they better not stay one second longer than they need to after Mommy gets home. 

Four months ago I was terrified just as much as you were. I loved you but I didn't know you. 

Today I realized that you will never stop surprising me with something new about yourself. You can spend hours doing puzzles. A new thing that I love but also loathe because here is something you should know- your Mommy has serious ADD. Sitting on the floor for any length of time doing puzzles is torture. But I have learned in these four months that I will do anything for you- except maybe puzzles. 

Wordless Wednesday

Grace In Motion

I have to admit, I am tired. 

Tired of being needed by someone every hour of every day. 

Tired of the never ending shift my mind has to make from mommy mode to doctor mode to mommy mode and back again. Sometimes more than once in a single day. 

I am tired of picking up the same toys over and over again. I am tired of harassing your brother and sister to please. Just. Clean. Up. Your. Rooms.

I am tired of this poison ivy that makes me want to scratch my face off. 

I am tired of never finishing my daily to do list, ever.

 I am tired of feeling like I have to be nurturing and available and positive and patient and always present because you deserve nothing less than a mother who is all of those things and more. 

I am tired of only seeing your father for brief moments here and there because he needs to work when I am not working so that you are with one of us most of the time. We have eaten one single meal together, just the two of us with no kids present, since we went to China. Then, tonight I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to put you all to bed and missed our big "date" to watch the end of True Blood. We don't need Dr. Phil to tell us that's not a recipe for a healthy marriage.  

I am tired of the pressure to make sure you eat a well balanced diet, when we both know you would be happy to eat nothing but rice and popsicles all day long. 

I am tired of explaining to total strangers that yes, you are my son and no, you did not "cost a lot of money," and yes, the older two are doing just fine, thank you very much. 

I am tired of still feeling hurt because of unkind words said not by strangers, but by people we love after we brought you home.

 I knew but I didn't know just how hard and isolating this path we have chosen could be. 

But none of this matters when you run to me as I walk in the door and jump up and down squealing, "Mommy's home!!! Mommy's home!!"  Or when you climb in my lap and give me a big wet kiss just because you love kisses. Seriously, you love kisses. Or when I ask you if you want to take a bath and you say, "No, thank you."  Or when we are out in public and you start singing, "Yes, Jesus lub me. Bible..me....so.!!!." My first thought is always, "I hope we don't offend anyone, singing about Jesus in the grocery store and all."  Then I see your smile while you sing loudly, "Bible..me...sooo!"  and I can't help but think you've got it all figured out. Just like the way you wave your hands in the air like you just don't care as soon as the music starts in church. 

    Why are your hands not up, Mommy?

You are delighted by this world and by music and by love. Jesus said that it is the faith of children that will save us. He actually said we need to become more like children in order to be saved. I think he meant that the faith of children and their ability to accept love without question or cynicism, is the faith that will point us all towards Heaven.  Not only do children accept love, but they give it away so unconditionally and unreservedly. Even after they have been abandoned, abused, and neglected- they still love. Children embody grace. 

And so it is with you, my sweet son.  You make my tired old mommy heart smile with every kiss, every giggle, and every belted out "Jesus...lub..me!!"  I don't understand it, but in three short months you have made us forget how we were ever a family without you.  You love us without reservation or agenda and you have claimed us as your own. Literally- at least once a day you point your finger to my chest and say, "Momma. Carter's momma," claiming me as yours. 

  I realized this tonight, as your laughter melted away all the weariness of a long, busy week- Jesus was right. The faith of a child will bring us into God's kingdom because children are grace in motion. 

Here is what I am beginning to see- your faith in us, your love for us, and the joy you lavish onto the ones you love is what is saving me all over again.  All of this, the hard stuff and the hurt, is the costly grace that matters so much. Cheap grace comes without sacrifice and counts for nothing in the end.  And in the end, all of this isn't about me at all.  It is about the One who called us out on this journey to live life as a family together. The One who knows that you are nothing less than a treasure- sought after and redeemed not by me but by God's own self. Thank you for reminding me of that every time you call me, "Mommy."

"Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods....Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life."

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

For My Daughter As She Walks Through the Valley of Middle School

I’m not going to lie.  It took all my mommy powers to put on a brave face and tell you over and over again, “You are going to love middle school!  You already have so many friends and you will make new friends super fast.  You won’t have any problems figuring out lockers and schedules and where to sit in the lunchroom.”  Secretly, though, I knew you were walking into a virtual minefield.  That’s what middle school is these days, especially for girls.  I’ve worried about your tender heart and your overwhelming shyness around strangers and how you would cope with mean girls and fickle boys.  I’ve always thought that your biggest struggle would be that everyone will want to be your friend but you will believe no one likes you.  I prayed down angel armies over you time and time again this summer as the start of school came near.  Every day I have asked God for one thing- a confidence in yourself that cannot be shaken.  The same fearless confidence that sent you climbing trees when you were little-

I think of confidence as a shield around your heart, something that will protect you from all of the attacks on your self-esteem that every young girl faces day to day as she walk the halls of middle school.  Pressure to look a certain way.  Pressure to be cute and sweet and popular.  Pressure to impress a boy.  I often see girls just a little older than you whose lives become completely derailed because they lost their identity in a series of one bad choice after another.  I see their hearts broken by boyfriends who leave them hurting and lost in more ways than your young mind can imagine.  I see their self worth tied to how many friends they have on Facebook or followers on Instagram.  I see them utterly destroyed by one inappropriate picture gone viral.  It is sad to see the way that they have lost their confidence in themselves.  They no longer believe that they can accomplish their dreams.  They have often forgotten how to dream.

This is why your dad and I get up every morning in the summers to take you to swim practice.  Why we spent long Saturday mornings cheering you on while you raced.  Why we drive you to soccer practice and celebrate every time you push a girl out of the way to go after the ball and shout, "Way to be aggressive, Camdyn!" Why we really don’t care if your team wins, just as long as you love the game and keep that fierce look on your face every time you play.  What you don’t know is that we have been investing in your confidence since the day you were born.  Bit by bit, we have been building it up like currency.  Saving it up for days like these.

See that confidence, shimmering under your smile?

So, it should not have been a big surprise when you came home from school on the first day with a smile on your face and declared, “I think I’m going to love middle school.”   I said you would, didn’t I?  Every day you bounce in the door with a new accomplishment, “Mom! I made an A+ on my math test!”  Of course you did, I want to say, math is your thing.  What has been surprising and perhaps a miracle is that the place where your confidence has soared the most has been gym class.  Who knew middle school PE would build your confidence so much?  First you came home proud as a pea about how fast you ran the mile.  Then, there was the day you came home beaming, “I beat everyone in my pacer test! Even all the boys!”  Last night, when you were talking about how many “legit” pushups you did in class, I said, “I bet you never realized just how strong you are.”  Your response? “No, I never realized just how AWESOME I am!”

That’s it Baby Girl.  Right there.  I wish I could put it in a bottle for you.  Freeze these moments of pure confidence for a rainy day.  There will be rainy days.  You already spend a little too much time worrying about your outfits and your hair.  I’ve even caught you sneaking out the door with makeup on. (Makeup!!??)  But right now, you see your body as something to be celebrated not for how it looks but for what it can do.  You are strong.  You are fast.  You outrun the boys.  And you love yourself for it. 

You know how we like to read your favorite Psalm together sometimes?  You say that you don’t know why, but it makes you feel calm.   

  

“God, my shepherd!


I don’t need a thing.


You have bedded me down in lush meadows,


you find me quiet pools to drink from.


True to your word,


you let me catch my breath


and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through


    Death Valley,


I’m not afraid


when you walk at my side…

Your beauty and love chase after me


every day of my life.”

Psalm 23 (MSG)

Know this, Baby Girl- God walks with you through every valley- even middle school.  Especially middle school!  God’s beauty and God’s love will be chasing you, pursuing you, and seeking you around every corner.  Look for it.  I promise you will find it.  You already know you are awesome, but the only way for your confidence to be unwavering is for it to be rooted deep in God’s love.  So, I’ll keep praying and you keep running fast, and we will trust God to take care of the rest.