I kissed every inch of her face as we rocked together in her dark bedroom. Not a sound in the air but her giggles and the noise my lips made as they kissed her cheeks.
” Momma again! “
I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing her ever so gently and confessing my love for her over and over. It didn’t seem to be enough. My heart could explode with affection for her. This kissing just didn’t seem to do the justice of my love. How could she ever know how much her life meant to me, just by a kiss? She couldn’t possibly understand how every choice of mine boiled down to her, my daughter’s well being. How every act of love I show anyone in this life is because I love her. I love the one who created her, my Father in heaven.
It was then I knew. He feels the same about his children, and even more passionately than I do. So much so that he prompted people to write the bible. His kisses, prophetic words and gifts of the spirit were not enough to prove his love. So he wrote a love letter to us, the bible.
She began to sing as I kissed her chubby cheeks. I smiled at the sound of her innocent voice in my ears. Her two year old vocals didn’t stand a chance to the most talented opera in the world. I wanted to hear my girl. Off key and all.
” Jesus loves me I know. Da bible is so.”
Her version is far greater than whoever wrote it before, because it’s Adah. My miracle baby.
It was a rare occasion that I was in my mini van alone. I took this time to worship and pray. Just be still and quiet, and let him speak. The words to the sound erupted out of my mouth as I winced. I’m a horrible singer. These windows may bust in my van, and although I was alone I know He was listening. The chorus came and I could not keep up with the certain octave of the key, or whatever it is that you call that. I sounded like a 12 year old boy hitting puberty. I am still waiting on puberty to hit ME, as it is a miracle I have birthed three children.
Suddenly I became self conscious . No one was listening, just Him. But I felt the need to sound GOOD, before him in his presence. I continued to sing ( badly ) and began to laugh at the sound. As horrible as I sounded, I felt His joy in my voice echoing throughout the van . There was no other explanation than His joy filling me as I sounded like an off key American Idol audition-er.
He reminded me of a sweet memory with my Loo girl. How her sweet, off key voice brought me such pleasure as she sang. The wrong words, the wrong harmony, the wrong everything. But alas, I did not matter what she sounded like. What mattered was that she was sitting safe on my lap being loved by her Momma. She had done no wrong in my eyes. The time that morning she had disobeyed and poured her water cup all over her freshly scrambled eggs didn’t matter to me. All was forgotten when she rested her head on my shoulder and she was just Adah,
No performance necessary , she was just my child . In whom I was well pleased.
