I was painting in the garage, and she was drawing a rainbow on the cement floor with chalk when she said, “I’m glad God gave you to me as my Mommy.” I wasn’t ready for it. “What?” I asked, making sure I heard her right. She tried to say it again, but her words came out a little more awkward this time, and she said something like, “I’m happy you’re my mommy from God.”
Tears filled my eyes. Then she prayed: “God, thank you for giving my mommy to me. And thank you (I couldn’t understand this part.) And thank you, she makes me breakfast. And thank you we’re going to make pumpkin spaghetti (biscotti). I hope it tastes good. Do you think it will taste good, God?” Then she opened her eyes, and went back to drawing her chalk mural — while my eyes blurred with tears, and a huge lump came to my throat. Where did that come from?
She’s 3…and I didn’t know her little heart could hold such gratitude. Or that it would just burst out of her, during this subtle moment in the garage. Or that she would thank God, out loud, for me, right then. Usually, she doesn’t even want to pray out loud — even with me encouraging her. But today she felt something inside her. Something beautiful. Her little heart can hold more love than I often know.
Her little mind…isn’t as small as I think. She thinks far beyond my expectations. “Thank you, Selah,” I smiled. “I’m so grateful to God for giving me you as my daughter.” I would have hugged her right then if my hands weren’t covered in white paint and there wasn’t so much junk on the floor between us. I was painting the drawers and an old wooden chair.
“Did you have to wait long for me, Mom?” she inquired. (I’d told her the story before, but she insisted on hearing it again.) I took a step across the junk on the floor to get closer to her. “Yes,” I replied. “I begged God for a baby over and over. But it took a long time for Him to give me one.” “And when Daddy and I found out you were in my tummy, we were overjoyed!” I exclaimed.
“Do you know why God took so long to give you a child?” she inquired. “No, honey,” I replied. “I’m not sure.” “I know why,” she explained. “Why?” I inquired. “Because… “He was forcing me,” she explained. He was forcing me. Her blonde tousled hair rustled in the breeze as I looked into her deep blue eyes, which seemed to know something from another world. And she appeared to be a thousand years old at the time.
He was forcing me. And that was sufficient. And my heart echoed with the truth, “Of course He was.” Of course, Dear One, that’s exactly what He was doing.” Because now that I know her and understand how unique she is, it makes sense that it took so long. I’m not sure what God was up to with her up there. Something about her makes me think she spent a long time on God’s chest before coming to mine. It was almost as if heaven didn’t want to let her go.