He is the author

Our first born turned one of those milestone numbers this year…the one after 21 and before 40.

Russ and I are still kind of shaking our heads wondering how we managed to become parents of a girl of a certain age. Time has flown and inside WE still feel that age, even though the mirror tells us a different story.

I remember so many things about this little gal…and in my reminiscing, I pulled up a story that I still laugh about.

While she has become quite a poignant writer; in her early school days this gift had not yet bloomed.

Every day in first grade she was required to make a journal entry. Each month, a completed journal returned home in her backpack.

Being a lover of words, I would pour over the pages hoping to glean insight into her world through what she wrote.

Week after week, her journal consisted of a terse report of the day, weather and what was in her lunch bag. Keeping in mind that she was also limited in her tastes, the entries basically consisted of: Today is Monday. I am having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It is sunny outside. Today is Tuesday…..etc. etc…..

And so passed the days of fall and the onset of winter.

Over Christmas break, we had an extraordinary amount of holiday cheer. We went ice skating with friends, attended movies, and traveled to visit family. As a bonus, there was snow that year, so lots of sledding. I also fulfilled their request to ride a city bus one day. Whatever. It was Christmas.

And so as I dropped her off at school for her first day back from vacation, I commented that she certainly would have some interesting things to journal about from her time off. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

At the end of the month, I humbly discovered what really stood out to her from all this bountiful offering of entertainment we had provided:
“Today is Monday. For Christmas I got to ride the bus. My brother sticked his finger in my nose and it bleeded.”

I can only assume it was also cold outside and she was having peanut butter and jelly.

My take away was….I can’t determine what people will glean from an experience; I can’t create other people’s memories; I can’t orchestrate what stands out as recordable in another person’s life. All I can do is do what I am called to do to the best of my ability and leave the results in His hands.
And thankfully, this is a very good plan.

Because she, like me, was and is a work in progress.

Along the way, God sticked His finger in this young woman’s life…and now when she writes, it is with His heart…His compassion…His ink.

Whatever you are pouring your life into; keep pouring and loving and covering in prayer.

We are called to plant and water and then watch for God to bring the increase.

May you be blessed today as you do your part with your whole heart.

And where you are becoming discouraged, I pray you get to see a glimpse of His handiwork as well <3