It’s 10PM. The lamp shining in our bedroom gives off enough light to permeate the dark hallway and sneak through the nursery door I left a quarter of the way open. Her little features glow against the dim backdrop as I skim the outline of her face with my fingers… the little lips, cheeks, and nose of an almost two year old. We’re currently living in that ‘baby/toddler tension’ – yet here she is – still my little baby, startled awake a couple of hours after bedtime, just needing to snuggle into her momma. She’s wrapped up all kinds of cozy and I’m glad I ‘had’ to come to her rescue. I can’t bring myself to put her back to bed yet even though she has been asleep for awhile. I wonder if there’s a sweeter feeling in the whole world than this that I’m feeling right here and I can feel my heart start beating fast. The emotions of motherhood come fast and strong. Hot tears streak my face as I hold my baby and think about the traumas of life – a mother who quite literally lost her entire world after a vacation tragedy in Branson – and here I am, holding my heart in my hands, struggling with the thought that she can’t stay here in the safety of this moment forever.

She’ll go through things, hard things – possibly even traumatic things – that, prayerfully, will forge a heart that’s fixed towards Heaven. Maybe it will be rejection that trains her eyes to look to Jesus, and not man, for the fulfillment of every good thing and desire in this life and the life to come. Maybe ridicule will teach her the grace of compassion. Maybe loss will encourage her to store up her treasures on eternity’s side where rust and moth won’t destroy. Maybe a few hard lessons learned from rattling off at the mouth will reinforce God’s wisdom in being slow to speak and quick to listen. Those things are hard to even write, much less imagine my child experiencing, because we momma’s would fight tooth and nail to transfer whatever pain our children might face onto ourselves to spare them the trauma, sickness, sorrow, or grief that this life might have in store.

But, obviously, that’s not possible. I can’t spare my child from the sometimes painful realities that come with life, but I have to be quick to lean on the truth that the Lord of Glory bankrupted all of Heaven, sparing no expense in sending His Son Jesus, Who has “…born our griefs and carried our sorrows…” (Isa. 53:4). Tonight, I’m remembering, treasuring, the thought that all the while – as she continues to invite the presence of God into her life through faith and repentance in the shed blood of His Son, Jesus Christ – the Lord will be faithful to gather up the broken pieces of her life, the painful shards that issue from the sudden impact of living in a fallen world, and will fit them into something, and build her into someone, that will most reflect Himself at the end of this life.

We had such a good day today; just an overall ‘pleasant’ day. I can’t say that for everyday, but today, emotions were steady, meals were enjoyed, lots of I love you’s were spoken, and happy toddler squeals were heard. But, and I know this from personal experience, it won’t (entirely) be her good days that aid her in attaining to the fullness of the stature God is calling her to be in Christ Jesus. It will be a lot of the hard days, all filled with sin, grace, mercy, and forgiveness – received and extended – that will do the greatest ‘heart work’ this side of Heaven. And God is faithful. This world… it’s all passing away. This life is but a preparatory school for Heaven (if we know Him) and He’s too good to allow one trial to be wasted.