I wish I'd had a camera. Her round cheeks and protruding forehead, black, and outlined by the bright window in the background. Warm sun, scattered clouds. The hum of the trolleys and delicate birds singing. In the middle of putting new sheets on the bed, my daughter and I became lost in our laughter. For fifteen minutes I forgot about my to-do list, and played airplane on the bed. Singing, laughing, smiling. I sang, "Making the bed with Gracie-Girl, making the bed with Gracie-Girl, making the bed with Gracie-Girl is better than making it alone!" - a song I'd invented when she was only six months old. I put her pudgy body on the bed, propped up with pillows, unable to even sit up by herself. Every morning I'd sing that song to her, throw the sheets up in the air and watch her smile as I covered her up. Today was different. Today she is this 32 pound mass of energy, buzzing around, moving, jumping, singing. Within a few minutes, she started singing right along with me.
Tonight, putting her into her "big-girl" bed (her crib converted into a toddler bed), I sang the first verse of "In Christ Alone". She requests this now. It ministers to me at night, to have to repeat these words, "In Christ alone / my hope is found / He is my light, my strength, my song." As I touched her round little forehead (I hope it stays round for a bit longer), I saw these two huge brown eyes, and thought - these are the very same eyes I loved when Grace was only 5 minutes old. The same eyes that were first opened in my womb. The same eyes that God knew before the foundation of the world.
On Tuesday, we visited a new thrift store and made our way through center city, during lunch hour, on a crowded bus. Stop-go, stop-go, people grabbing the metal railings, Grace making all the passengers around us smile. At one point, she started singing "The Wheels on the Bus", and an elderly man next to her gave her a thumbs up. We passed by Pennsylvania Hospital at 8th and Spruce Streets, where Grace was born. Three days after she was born, I remember leaving the hospital, stepping into a stifling hot day, bright sun, a Sunday afternoon. Staring at the green trees and buildings, I realized - now I'm seeing this whole world as a mother. Nothing looked different on the outside, but I completely changed- and so did Bill. So passing this same hospital two years later, on a crowded bus, I smiled. Because the Lord has given us two amazing years with our precious girl. I'm thankful for her. I am richer because of her.
