All I did was ask a question she'd heard many times before - Who are you? Maybe it was the circumstances. Maybe she was just ready to tell me. Either way, I'm glad she did.
Last night as Brian and I sat in the livingroom discussing a problem common to every household - chores - unbeknownst to us, our precious, sensitive little Piggy laid a room away taking in every word that was being said. I must have gone on for close to 45 minutes just telling him about how little help I had been getting, how it was causing my back to hurt so badly by the end of the day that I needed my pain meds, how I just couldn't keep it up. You know the general mom stuff.
I stopped long enough to take a potty break when I took the few steps of a detour to her doorway. My initial thought was, "Why is she still awake at 1130? She knows better & should have been asleep an hour ago." But thankfully before my mouth could open, following my frustrated brain's lead, my eyes caught a glimpse of a tear as she sat there, frantically writing away.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm writing myself a note," she choked through the tears & kept on writing.
I walked through the doorway & over to her bed. I leaned down to find out what could possibly be so important that she was still writing. I was obviously still frustrated. My hardened heart instantly shattered as I read the lies my daughter had written about herself.
"Dear future self, I hope that I'm being helpful. I want to say that I hope I'm not a bratty, sneaky, cry baby anymore. I'm sloth-like, sassy, lazy, useless & a careless jerk. I'm a thief & a mess-maker......"
No words. There was nothing I could say to this precious little girl who heard what was being said, internalized it then translated it into something far worse than I could ever have imagined or said. I turned and walked out but quickly returned with the beaten up, paper stuffed, marked & remarked Bible she'd seen me read from before. I knelt down beside her bed & placed it between us. She laid her pencil down & stared straight head, avoiding eye contact with me. I took her hand and began to read to her, through my own tears - For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in that secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
"My precious girl, this is who God says you are. You are fearfully & wonderfully made. He knew long before today everything that would happen. He even knows what you will & won't do later. But you know what? He loves you so much & thought you were so worth it that he sent Jesus for you anyway. These things aren't who God says you are. Who does God say you are? Who are you?"
And there it was. I know the images she saw in her head when I asked that question because they were the same ones I saw. It was a smaller version of herself, laying in that hospital bed last fall with her great grandma whispering in her ear the question that had been asked so many, many times before. I could see that grey hair fall down around my little girl's face as gma cupped it with those delicate, wrinkled hands. Gma drew her so close that their noses were touching. "GiGi, I'm a child of The King." Then they giggled, kissed each other's cheeks & laid there until I sent her home for the evening.
But tonight, my Hope whispered it to me, "Momma, I'm a child of The King."
I took her note from her. "That's right my sweet girl. All those lies that you heard before, the ones you wrote down, none of those are who you really are. So I'm going to take this. You are a daughter of the Lord, the Lord, the compassionate & almighty God. Who is slow to anger & abounding in love. How do you know?"
"Because momma, I asked Jesus to come into my life."
Woah! Wait. A. Minute. "You did? When?"
"At Bible study one night. When Ms Adcock & Ms Soltman were my teachers."
My wheels started turning. That was THREE YEARS AGO. I grinned. "Can I tell you a secret? I already knew. I didn't know when, but I knew. I've seen Jesus in you. Like when you love on people that others don't. Or when you cry on vacation because someone you don't even know was made fun of by others. Or when you helped to take care of Gigi everyday like you did without complaining. I knew. And another secret? Gigi knew too. She & I had already talked about it. It was one of the last conversations we had. When you love Jesus, others can see there's something different about you."
All I did was ask a question she'd heard many times before - Who are you? Maybe it was the circumstances. Maybe she was just ready to tell me. Either way, I'm glad she did. A night that began with my complaining exposed the lies my daughter was beginning to believe about herself and ended with a resounding answer -
She IS a child of The King!
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