Sometimes I worry about our youngest.
She is beautiful, bright, funny, and strong. She has a great imagination and seems to be musical.
She has every extreme trait of each of her type-A parents, all wrapped up in one little body.
I have seen her fight internally with herself, and I have definitely seen her fight with the rest of us. She has very definite ideas about what she wants and what is right. She is a defender and a go-getter. And when she knows that she has lost a battle, the way she breaks down is so raw that she breaks my heart every single time.
We all know, hope, pray that there are big futures in store for all our kids. I guess KK is just ‘that kid.’ There’s something about her that makes me feel like she’s going to need a little extra guidance, a lot of extra prayers, maybe some tough love…
On Christmas Eve night, Miranda, KK, and I were making preparations for the next morning. Our church service was going to include some participation from the kids – they were all to bring a nativity piece, any nativity piece, in order to contribute to the story of Jesus’ birth. We have a book that is magnetized and came with lots of magnets – Mary, Joseph, shepherds, angels, animals.
Miranda chose Baby Jesus. No surprise there.
KK came over to me holding a camel. Also no surprise – she loves animals, and she’s a little unconventional. But her words were:
I want to bring the camel, because that is what they rode on to Bethlehem.
I pondered a moment before I decided to gently correct her:
No honey. The wise men rode on camels. Mary rode on a donkey.
I didn’t know if she was going to argue with me, shrug her shoulders and hang tight to the camel, or what. What she did, my not-quite-4-year-old, was wordlessly return to the pile of magnets and bring the donkey to me.
And the still small voice in my head said,
She knows stuff.
She cares about carrying baby Jesus.
Maybe she’s going to be a servant in the background, not glamorous but important.
But really, don’t worry about it. Because whatever she does, she is going to rock at it.
Those weren’t the exact words, but it was a moment, one in which I was sure God was showing me something about my somewhat mysterious little girl. Rod noticed it, because I was sitting there both teary and smiley at the same time.
As a mama, I will never not worry about my kids’ minds and hearts. But as a daughter – of God – I will always have the assurance that somehow, mystically, wonderfully, He loves me and my babies more than I can comprehend.
And that, my friends, is a really, really good Christmas gift.