Because Little Girls Can’t Stay Little Forever…

It happened just the other day when you sauntered into the kitchen while I was cleaning up the breakfast mess.

Your hair was piled sloppy on top of your head and a few unruly strands of blonde framed your face with fly-away wisps.

And when you cast me that goofy grin- the one full of life and etched with a sparkle of mischief- I felt like I was staring into the past, glimpsing right into the eyes of that preschooler who licked my spatulas clean and told me tales about her new ears tucked beneath those crazy curls.

My breath caught in my throat, and I wondered if my heart was stuck there, too, a lump of love and awe too big to swallow.

And when your blue eyes alit with laughter and your giddy giggles rang above the clink of those dishes I was scrubbing in the sink, I wanted to turn back time.  

For just a moment, I wanted to reverse the clock and keep you from growing up so fast.

I wanted to tie your shoes instead of sharing them.

I wanted to race after you barefoot in the backyard instead of racing you to soccer practice or rushing you to school.

 I wanted to squat on the sidewalk beside you and watch a fuzzy caterpillar turn into a butterfly, instead of watching you transform into a young woman right before my wonderstruck eyes.

I wanted to wrap my arms around you and hold you on my knees at the start of each day instead of dropping to my knees and holding you up in prayer as darkness wields to dawn. 

But if I did that….

If I harnessed time and held it tight, I’d miss the thrill of seeing you grow in beauty and in grace. I’d miss witnessing the way your faith has become your own. 

If I kept you on my lap with that Baby Bible opened wide, I’d miss the joy of walking into your bedroom and finding your Bible left open on your unmade bed, your favorite words underlined in ink.

If I kept you small enough to scribble in coloring books, I’d miss the thrill of finding those yellow post-it-notes scribbled with God’s Word and stuck to your door and your desk and your walls, reminders of the truth you’ve found for yourself.

If I kept you clinging to my legs, I’d never see you run the race God has set before you.

If I froze you as my pint-sized girl, I’d never watch you discover the God-sized dreams your Creator has planted deep in the marrow of your soul.

I reminded myself of that simple truth this morning as I hung birthday streamers on your door.

And as I sat quietly on the deck with my prayer journal and the rising sun, my pen scribbling praise for the fourteen years we’ve shared.

I let my mind wander back to that moment when you’d slipped from womb to world with a piercing cry and I re-lived the awe I’d felt when the doctor had placed your slippery body into my arms. 

I’d wondered if you’d just slipped from Heaven, your baby blues the color of celestial skies.

And today, as new mercies unfolded in pink streaks of dawn and the birds in the woods began to sing up the sun, I knew that Heaven was singing over you, too. I could almost hear the angels celebrating this day of your birth and all your days to come.

And as the trees waved their leafy hands in rhythmic hallelujahs, this mom who couldn’t love you more prayed for fresh courage to let you grow.

Grow, Lizzy, grow. 

I think God heard my prayer, birthday girl, there in the hush of your birthday morn.

Because just as I surrendered you into His hands once again, a delicate-winged butterfly rose silently from the flower pot beside me, its orange wings a streak of brazen beauty.

Grow, Lizzy, grow.

“Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

And, daughter, wherever you fly—just beyond the window or halfway around the world–may your life leave a radiant streak of His glory.

Happy Fourteenth Birthday, Elizabeth Grace!

Love, Mom