Dear Eisley,
I am writing this on Christmas Eve as you nap. You are slumbering peacefully in your bed, unaware that we have reached the culmination of the holiday season. You are eight months old and every day is a holiday to you. You will probably steal a bite of Jesus’ birthday cake tonight and crinkle wrapping paper with glee tomorrow morning. You don’t even care about presents, but you do love hanging out with your family.
I have been savoring your baby days this Christmas season, as I consider how motherhood is full of the expectant type of waiting we celebrate during advent. It’s easy to wish away the baby days. They are difficult and tiring and, as parents, we know there are exciting days ahead as you develop. Someday you will walk and talk and feed yourself and graduate out of diapers. And as we reach all those milestones, your personality will slowly emerge too. We will discover if you are outgoing or shy, serious or silly, artsy, athletic, a bookworm, or any combination of those traits. And as you grow to know the Lord, hopefully we will see his gifts blossom in your heart as well. Will you be a teacher? A giver? One that shows mercy? One who fights for justice?
But I don’t want to know the answers to all those questions quite yet. I want to enjoy you just as you are right now, confident that God has great things in store for your mind, heart, and body. I know the days of watching you laugh and dance and sing will come. Last week, our pastor reminded us that a good part of the Christian life is spent waiting. God’s people waited thousands of years for a Savior to arrive. Now we have waited thousands more years for his return. In our own lives, we constantly wait for healing, for restoration, for sanctification. So that must mean that waiting is holy. Waiting is trusting that God is at work, even when we can’t see it.
That’s how I feel about you. The days pass by slowly – filled with naps and diapers, wiping down the high chair and sweeping the floor. You grow day by day – giggling, clapping, sitting, now crawling. I delight in knowing God is at work in you, and while I am expectant to see his handiwork, there is joy in waiting for it to unfold.
Full of expectation and peace,
Mama
