Dear daughter of mine,
I see you. How you move through your day like a child in a candy store, each new task a delicious challenge, each object something to be marveled over, to be explored.
You’re not concerned about what the world thinks about you. You don’t stay up at night worrying about bills or calories or Facebook statuses. You know that you are loved. And in that love, you live securely, pleased to be your charming little self.
Today we went grocery shopping together and you took in the big store, the strange faces, the many sounds. You didn’t say a peep–until I put the reduced fat sharp cheddar cheese in the grocery cart. Then you made a grab for it and held it close to your face. It was a security blanket for you, that familiar packaging containing your favorite snack in the world. You could hardly wait for us to get to the car before you begged me to open it and you plunged your hand in the bag and stuffed as many little shreds as your little mouth could hold, the rest cascading down your coat and into your car seat.
I look at you and I cannot help but wander at the brilliant little person you are becoming. You walk into a room and search my face, gazing intently to discern my look. And when you see a reassuring smile, you carry on with an air of confidence and importance, stacking blocks or pushing magnets as if you had not a care in the world. Your mama sees you. She loves you. She approves of you. And all is well with your world.
And I cannot help but think that your heavenly Father is even more in love with you than I am.
He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?
I cannot fathom giving you up. My dear, precious Carissa. I cannot imagine sending you into a hostile world, born in a lowly manger, stripped of all privileges to be abused and murdered. But the good news, my little one, is that Jesus willingly took all our sin, all our shame, all our failings and gave us His righteousness instead. He bathes us in His forgiveness so we can walk into the throne room with confidence–not self-confidence, but humble confidence, hearts full of grace and gratitude.
We are already loved, already perfected, already approved of, already justified. We don’t need to try to justify ourselves by what we do or how we look or assure ourselves that we’re okay because of the progress we’re making.
~Elyse M. Fitzpatrick
My dear little one, I have learned many lessons from you in the 15 months you’ve been with us. But this lesson is the best yet: God sent us a Savior so we can stop trying to be our own little saviors. We can rest in Him.