Our Gracie Girl, Six Months Old

My darling girl, can it be? Half a year already? If time flies with the first and flashes with the second and simply warps with the third, what can be said of you? Your days of little somehow seem shorter and yet I know the time was just as fair as it was with each of your brothers. Life's a vapor and He tells us just that but still this mother laments; didn't we just bring you home tiny and swaddled in pink with your olive skin and smushed nose? Wasn't it just yesterday that I traced the outline of your check for the first time and kissed your swollen eyelids and breathed you in while you slept in that just arrived hibernation like sleep? I know it couldn't possibly have been that long since your daddy's phone calls, breathless still with the realization of a daughter, and your Auntie's cry-laugh when the doctor declared, "Girl!" but the calendar says different. Six months old, my love. You are simply and shockingly six months old.

That day is still so fresh, even with the fog that comes from birthing a baby. Pink bouquets abounded and three little sick boys hovered over your every sigh with great curiosity. They weren't the only ones with minds wondering though. Dear girl, how my mind whirled a few times, as well.  How to mother a fourth? How to mother a daughter? How to do anything at all when life keeps twisting and changing and you just always feel a bit tossed about. The Lord was merciful to me though. Years before he ever gave me you, he gave me a very present reminder for my amnesia prone soul. His Truth turned name. Grace. Little did I know just how fitting it would be when those lines turned pink and I cried, the Lord already knitting you within. 

 I sit at this old computer and tap keys and backspace, tap keys and backspace; the story of your name still not coming to paged type. I long to write it out but words fail me. Maybe for today, maybe for forever. Only the Lord knows. So for now just know that there's more to your name, your start, and your momma, my little Grace Ruth Ann. And know that it all ties back to Him and how He works all for good in the lives of those He loves and who are called according to His purpose. And if you know nothing else, just know He is good. And worthy. Even when darkness clouds. Trust your Mama. I know.

Sometimes while you nurse, the house still from brothers long tucked in, I look into those eyes threatening brown and I wonder who you are. I think about what things will make you laugh and what you'll struggle with. I wonder how you'll grow our family and what life will look like with you and for you. I think about what you'll look like, a woman grown, and about the conversations to come on faith and life. I wonder if you'll sing like your daddy and bake like your momma or bake like your daddy and sing like your momma. And then, as I hold you close and whisper out lullabies as you drink to sleep, the Lord's leading reminds me to pray for your little heart. "Take out her heart of stone and give her a heart of flesh," is the cry of my own. And then I smooth back that unruly hair and kiss under your milk dripped chin and relish every sweet soft coo. See there is nothing in all the world like having a baby in the house. And right now, precious jewel, you are it. 

Happy Half Birthday, Gracie Girl. You are a treasure from our Lord. And I am so very thankful to Him for you, my sweet daughter. I pray that in these next 6 months, 6 years, 60 years you'll grow in the grace and knowledge of the only One worthy.

I love you dearly. 

Your Mama