I've Got Her

We had a birthday this weekend.  She's going to love this picture don't you think?  Once again my photography skills shine brightly.

The weekend was busy and filled with activity but to me it was all background noise.  I wanted to celebrate a birthday.  I wanted to not move, sit still,  and remember a day 17 years ago that changed everything.  The day I became a mother, Kelli's mother.

Every year on my children's birthdays I reminisce about their birth in my journal.  I write about their labors, I write about their deliveries and how each one was unique.  I write about snuggling with them on that first day and how wonderful it was.  I write about how they amaze me, and how blessed I am to have the privilege of being their mother.

There is one memory of Kelli I'd like to share with you.

Kelli had just been home for a couple of days.  I had no idea what I was doing but I knew I wanted to do it right. Everything had to be right. I had be the perfect mother.  Her bassinet was right beside our bed, on my side, so I could hear everything.  I was so paranoid that someone was going to take her.  I kept her beside me all day and even kept the curtains closed because I didn't want anyone sneaking in.  I think  I was having some kind of post-partum paranoia.

One night after getting up to feed her, I stumbled down the hallway, returning to our bedroom.  I tucked her into her bassinet and fell back into bed.  I was exhausted but even more overwhelmed.  I felt the weight of my new responsibility and I didn't know if I could carry it.  What was I doing?  How could I possibly care for this precious bundle? I didn't know how to do this.  I didn't want to make any mistakes. This was huge.  This was more than anything I had ever faced. This was serious.

As I lay there fretting and wide awake, I believe Jesus showed up.  I didn't see a bright light.  The curtains didn't move.  The moon didn't shine any brighter, I simply felt something and as I lay there I began to hear something.  "I've got her.  I've got her."

Those words were not manufactured in my brain.  I had no wisdom, I'm not even sure I had any sanity.  All I had at that point was frantic thoughts of all the mistakes I was going to make. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how to think about it all.  So where did these words come from? It had to be Jesus.

I heard the words and understood what I had to do. I had to let her go. He would carry her.  I had to put her into his arms.  I understood that this responsibility was not mine alone, neither was this baby mine alone.  She belonged to God and God had just showed up to help.

I may have fallen asleep after a while, I don't remember.  I do remember the next day.  I sat down beside her bassinet while Kelli napped, and began writing.  I wrote about what had happened the night before.  I wrote about how scared I was. I wrote about the journey I now found myself on and how unprepared I felt.  I wrote about Jesus and how unworthy I was to be loved the way I still am today.  I believe, but I can't be completely certain, I opened up the curtains and allowed some of the beautiful autumn weather to filter in through the windows of my little white house.

Jesus has brought that night back to me several times over the years. It was there the Friday afternoon I received a phone call with news about Kelli. I spent a lot of time on my knees after that phone call.  I cried. I ran back to the fear and the certainty that I had no idea what I was doing and that I was not fit to be Kelli's mother.   I begged God to let me carry the load he had given Kelli.  I worried and fretted. I cried.  He whispered,  "I've got her.  I've got her", and the more time I spent on my knees, the more I began to believe him.  He did have her.  He does have her.  He will have her. 

I think I should put those words up all over my house.  They should be written on every college mailing that Kelli receives in the mail.  Everywhere.  They should be everywhere. "I've got her". Maybe then I wouldn't forget so often.

Happy Birthday Miss Kelli.  I've been so blessed to be your mom.  I feel so unworthy, so humbled.  I'm so glad he's got you. You were, you are and you will be his.

Always.