I’m raising a squealer. 

Nothing used to scare this kid. She threw herself head-first down slides, drooled on 150 lb. dogs, rode in the car with her mother–

Completely unaffected. Then this happened:

Toy Easter Chick

I wound it up and let it “walk” across the table, and my sweet, defiant baby started squalling.

{Did I mention we were in a hotel room? We needed a cupbearer at the continental breakfast the next morning.}

She’s scared of the little things, this kid. The breeze that shifts the curtains, the sock fuzz that floats in the tub. Anything unexpected, and, well…

She is, after all, my kid.

I’m not great with the unknown. In fact, it kind of makes me squeal a little.

Have you been with me so long, and yet you do not know Me?

He speaks softly, without reprimand. There is no disappointment, only a gentle reminder…

Do you remember the hospital bed? I was there.

Do you remember the depth of rejection? I was there.

Do you remember when you could not walk? I was there.

Do you remember when I brought you Love? I was there.

Do you remember when your heart began to heal? I am here…


I want to tell my baby girl, my tiny squealer, do you remember? 

But she does not.

She is 18-months-old. She does not yet have the benefit of 30 years of knowing someone was there.

But everything inside of me aches with the desire that she will know firsthand…

I am the Alpha and the Omega,

the beginning and the end,

the first and the last.

{Revelation 22:13}

2 thoughts on “Scared

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