Every smile, every laugh, every tear…

by Genny



                               

“You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8

I tiptoe into to my daughter’s room to check if she’s asleep. It’s been a busy week and she’s had a lot on her plate.

Quietly, I stand next to her bed and look at her–my little girl, asleep, her head resting sideways on her pillow.

My little girl who is not so little anymore.

Slowly, silently, I sit on the edge of her bed and look around her room—at the pictures of her friends on her dresser, at the plaque on her wall that says Chase Your Dreams, at the pile of books on her desk.

I think about her future and how she’ll be in high school next year. I think about how much I want that time in her life to be filled with happiness, good friends, wonderful memories, safety…

I want her to achieve her dreams and goals.

I want things to always be good for her.

“God, help me to parent her well,” I pray.

My eyes sting.

When she was little, parenting was easier. (I used to think it would be easier as she got older, but now I know.)

As she grows up and spreads her wings and navigates new life situations, things seem more complicated. And I’m learning more and more that I don’t have all the answers, I can’t control every situation, and that I shouldn’t always intervene.

She stirs.

Gently, I reach for her hand. I close my eyes and whisper my prayer again, “Help me to be a good mom as she grows up.”

A tear runs down my cheek.

And that’s when an assurance comes. Suddenly, I’m flooded with memories of how many times God has equipped me when I felt inadequate as a mom, how many times He has strengthened me when I felt unready, how many times he has given me peace for the future.

And I know that’s my answer: I just need to love my kids the way God has loved me. Fully and unconditionally.

God has my daughter’s life–every thought, every dream, every hope, every smile, every laugh…every disappointment, every tear–in His hands, cradled safely, softly, securely.

I don’t need to figure everything out or worry. God loves my daughter even more than I do.

The thought is almost overwhelming.

Another tear slips down my cheek. “You are precious to Him,” I whisper, hoping that in her sleep she will register the truth in those words and cement them forever in her awareness.

She stirs and smiles.

Faintly, but she smiles.

And so do I.

Email Author    |    Website About Genny

Genny Heikka lives in California with her husband and two kids, where she balances writing with motherhood and loves both. She's an author, speaker, blogger, and coffee lover. Stop by her blog and share a cup or follow her on twitter.

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