I spend a lot of time in hospitals, but not like this. This day six months ago today was very, very different.
We had been there all night. We waited. We prayed. We drank too much coffee. We tried to nap in impossibly awkward chairs. We ate food out of machines. We waited some more.
The sun finally rose. The call finally came.
As we walked towards the room to meet the newest love of our lives, I was about to burst with excitement, but I also felt strangely calm. I had mentally prepared myself for this moment. That’s what I had done all night in that waiting room: I ate Cheez-its and I prepared.
Now I was officially ready to meet my first grandchild.
The earth shifted on its axis somewhat as the door opened, though. My well-prepared confidence crumbled instantly as I saw our daughter … the one whose very presence on this earth had been such an unexpected gift to us … lying there gazing down at her own little dream-come-true. I had never seen her look more beautiful. Her eyes held such peace. Such contentment.
“She knows now,” I thought to myself. I could see it.
She knows the indescribable love of motherhood.
There was no preparing myself for the enormity of this moment. It literally took my breath away. The entire scene was simply stunning and I can still feel the wash of indescribable lovely when I think about it today.
I then shifted my focus to our grand-daughter, all wrapped up tight in her mother’s arms. That face … so tiny, so perfect … my heart wondered what she will look like as she grows into becoming herself.
As I held her for the first time in that hospital room, I watched her, taking in her every feature, thanking God for every curve, each unbelievably long eyelash.
Those cheeks. That sweet mouth. Those eyes – wide open and questioning. I could actually see her confusion as she looked around wondering where her dark, warm coziness had gone.
Her eyes held that unmistakable look that asked “what just happened???”
Still today on her six-month birthday, we may not know yet exactly who she’s going to be, but we do know she’s going to be important.
Through God’s unbelievable grace, she fought her way out of that dark, warm coziness to come shine in a world that definitely needs brightening.
She still doesn’t know this yet, but her very heartbeat carries a distinct purpose. Each breath she takes, every word she speaks, all the steps she will ever tiptoe hold meaning because the story of “Ruby Wren” has already been written by the One who loves her way more than any of us around her can ever even begin to imagine.
I pray she grows knowing this.
I pray she grows knowing Him.
I pray she grows laughing and dancing, running and playing.
I pray she grows to love good food and quiet rest.
I pray she grows to love sunshine and cool, rainy days.
I pray she grows exploring and creating, reading and thinking.
Yes, I pray she grows deeply, deeply thinking.
I pray she grows to be a learner and a teacher.
I pray she grows strong enough to lead, yet soft enough to lean.
I pray she grows to love deeply and be loved the same.
I pray she yearns for grace and mercy.
I pray she seeks His face. With her entire everything.
I pray she grows knowing she doesn’t have to stand alone.
That she’s never, ever, ever alone.
And I pray that she grows to learn from her hard-headed Mimi that she can never be TRULY prepared for the gifts of wonder that God has in store for her. His wonders never cease in their ability to knock us absolutely down onto our well-planned, overly-prepared knees, utterly silenced in speechless praise.
Happy 1/2 Birthday, Ruby Wren, and thanks for growing with me. ❤
“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 the 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.” (Psalm 139:13-16)