A new face came into to the family this week — another baby girl became visible, emerging from the womb, her secret place where she was knit together. Weighing in at 6 lbs. 7 oz., she used her voice to announce her arrival, a short high-pitched little cry that reminds you of a cat wanting something. She arrives not only with clenched fists and a beautiful pink face, but with a destiny and purpose of knowing her Father.
Her parents name her Naomi, meaning “beautiful, pleasant, delightful” and Marcella as the middle name, “brave, martial, hammer” – bringing delightful, strong redemption.
Her sisters faces seen the same way – all born in need, all born with a sense of smallness and yet strong destiny, inheriting all the same family crap and yet the same promises of a Living God enabling them to learn to walk with Him.
There is Abigail, Selah, and Lillian – already walking, learning, testing the ropes to see if they hold. Now all big sisters….will they reach out to the newest face in the room? Will they love her, accepting the helplessness? They embrace and ask and live out where they are, so small and so unassuming. They love from their confidence and identity.
And yet, I am afraid. I’m afraid of all they will go through, all I’ve seen in my life that I hope is cleaned up enough to allow generational blessings to flow unhindered. And I cannot see that far! I cannot see all they will become, all they will walk through, as if on broken glass at times, that toughens feet and strengthens hearts as they and their parents unpack why they are here, why they live.
And I don’t want them to hurt at all – just to feel hugged continually, and then let go to try. Try everything that is in their hearts to do, looking, longing, and searching for their own life in Him. And isn’t that what we want? To find our own life? We want to make sense of this earthly place, where feet stick to the ground and if we are found off-balance, we fall and get up and try again.
And they are so small.
Faces. That’s always what I remember. Faces. I don’t remember what people have on or what they ate or where they work. I remember faces. And God says we will see Him face to face for He knows how important faces are – where all the senses come together – knowing eye to eye – where knowledge and piercing sight and memories of aroma and taste and touch are significant.
I wait for when He finally pulls me in close, my cheek against His. But for now, I am loving my life, even through the narrow places, and especially where I am eye to eye, face to face with those I love…to read in their eyes their love for me. We are part of this mutual exchange, witnesses of each others lives, and experience a taste of what the Designer put in motion. Loving each other, loving Him.
And it is in the receiving of Love, genuine, that we realize our own value and are able to love back, heart healing. And even at 52, I am learning it still, to allow myself to be loved by others, to be preferred sometimes without guilt or suspicion, to be loved by little children and a man who loves me for me – so much like Jesus’ love. And it brings rest to my spirit and soul and body…and I desire this for all. And I desire to share it. Isn’t that the heart of God? To feel love and want to love in return?
(c) Robin Lawrimore, November 2012