I have been hesitant to let the words pass my lips.
I know that once I do, those words fashion history.
I'll type them...
My baby boy is one week old.
I didn't want to say them because I know how these things go. Soon I'll be saying, "He's one month old" and then before I can bat another eyelash, I'll have to say, "He's one year old."
Maybe I'm trying to slow down time by keeping the words inside. I will only get one year with him as a baby, after one year they grow up.
I can hardly remember my first-born's baby days. They passed in such a blur. Now all I can do is search my memory and shuffle through pictures to try and recall.
I do remember those days that I wanted to scream "DO-OVER!" because I knew I had created a sour memory. I wish to go back and erase those days. And yet, I know that they are woven into the pattern of my destiny and hers. I needed to have those days so that I could see my need. She needed those days so that she could hear me say, "Will you forgive me? I was wrong."
What I hate is that those wrongs still try to sneak up and wrap themselves around me like silk cords around an unsuspecting fly. Only, I'm not unsuspecting... I know what shame is and that it is not from God. Endless Grace is what comes from Him. All I can do is receive it. His grace covers all our wrongs. They are buried under an ocean of Mercy... so undeserved.
The more children I have, the more I realize that I am so utterly helpless to do this without Him. And that is a good realization.
~ christa jean