On the Day You Were Born
On the day you were born, I wish I could have been there. You entered this world with only a record of the date. I don’t know what time it was-I think it was in the night. You love the night. On the day you were born-there was a plan for you all laid out in Heaven’s realm. A plan of love and hope-that was not there on the day you were born. Someone found you there-in the hospital alone-and took you to a foster care home. It was there that we met.
You were only three weeks old-but it was love at first sight. It was then that you were born in my heart. You-beautiful and perfect-because all good gifts and all perfect gifts-come from above. And you are a gift. We had to wait-we went home to prepare a place for you. All the paper work seemed endless-but the toil worth the prize. You came home clinging-I know for that love and hope-we promised.
You learned to trust in that first year you were home. It was you and me. We had to learn of each other. You smiled so easy-and you still do. You have always been tender-always caring. That first year-you learned to walk and to hold my hand. You grew with all that love and hope. You were finally home.
The days slipped by and you grew. You were two and then somehow you became five. It all happened so fast. I began to see who you were going to be. So gentle-so shy-so caring. You would cry even when it started to rain-you still do. I wonder if it was raining on the day you were born? You loved music even so young-playing the piano and violin. You learned so many things-so very fast. You could laugh quick with your brothers and sisters-yet keep your distance with the world. You were still holding my hand.
Five became ten and I started to fear. How much did I miss of those young and tender years? But-you grew-and I saw it all-I was there. Your passions became so many–from the piano and violin to the piano and flute–you want to be an artist. You have that kind of love. You don’t like math because you create–your world is full of memories and times of pure dreaming. Math is calculating and rote. You have a pure innocence–a child like faith. You love so much and give your heart to all that you do. You are allergic to Murray-the cat. But you will sneeze and endure just for one more hug. You can be messy and forgetful-because you’re busy creating and loving all the world around you. You talk of horses and playgrounds and your cousin Bethany. You are still afraid of the rain. I see you growing-but you are still holding my hand. You learned of Jesus and His dying love. It was on Andrea’s birthday-that you accepted the gift that He gave. Eternal life-never alone. And your love took on wings. You want nothing more than to create–you want to marry and make me a grandma-that makes you laugh. Years ago-when you first talked of children and I told you I would be the grandma–you cried. You knew I would be old and then I would die. It took years for you to learn-I will be there-I will never leave.
Today-you are eleven. Before you went to sleep last night-you kissed me and said, ‘take one last look-because it will be the last time you see me when I am ten.’–I did take that look–the last time you were ten. I want to be sure that tomorrow and the next day-and the day after that-I am still looking. I want to see how God weaves His masterpiece. You are not mine–I am just holding your hand.
Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
I love you my Catie–my true hearts desire. Be strong and courageous–Be not Afraid. The rains will come-again and again. But you will never be alone. You will grow in the Grace and the Knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. You will never be alone. I know I will turn around and you will be fifteen and then twenty. I am not afraid anymore-because I know it will not just be me holding your hand-but you will be holding mine too.