a new reason for love

I've written and rewritten a blog three different times tonight. And I keep wondering why I can't write more than a few paragraphs without getting annoyed about what I'm saying. And I realized that I wasn't being real.

So here's real.

A friend of mine's wife just had their first baby - a girl. She's perfect and beautiful and full of new life. New hope. And I look at my walking, talking, silly 18month old little girl (not so much a baby anymore) and I find myself actually missing those first few sleepless months. I don't so much miss the sleeplessness as I miss the newness of it all. It was indescribable to look at the life that Todd and I had created, the actual tangible gift that God had given us. And while I still look at her in awe, something is different. My love for her has changed. And it's stronger and different and evolving. And I'm pretty certain that's how God wants it to be.

But with every milestone or change in her life, in my life, in our life as a family, I can't help but wonder. I never thought my wonder would go so long and deep for him. I never thought I'd find days when I was desperate just to hear his voice saying "Ashley Mac" in just that way that only he could say. And when I call Loralai "boogs" it's only because it's a natural nickname that I had no intention of giving her but continued to slip from my lips and so it is. But it was his name for me. And I miss hearing him say it.

I just flat out miss my dad. And some days I cry a stinking river of tears missing him.

There are so many days that while I'm talking to God, I just ask Him to walk over to dad and give him a hug from me. I know it's not necessary. For heaven's sake, my dad is in eternal splendor in the presence of the King. The last thing he needs is a hug from me (praise God!). But there are some days that I'm pretty sure I could use a hug from him. So it's these days that I have to press in to God all the harder.

My thirtieth birthday is creeping up in about a week. I know. You're surprised. There you were thinking that I couldn't be older than 25. Well, you were wrong. You mistook my beautiful gray highlights for blonde ones. Blonde they are not. But with my birthday is just a tinge of missing dad. I can't remember the last time I said "dad" out loud. That just seems weird to me. I suppose it is a little bit. But not to God. Because none of this, these thirty years, is a surprise to Him. In fact, when He was creating me in my mother's womb, He knew that all of this would happen. He chose my parents for me, the town that I would be born in. He chose Bill and Kay to be dad and mom. And he knew the choices they would both make and that I would make. He knew that dad would struggle with a different sin than the rest of us. He knew that the natural ramifications of dad's sin would look different than ours. That his would set him apart.

My dad was set apart. And he was apart from God for a long time. But by grace he was saved. And because of that, I rejoice in my current suffering. Because I know that suffering produces perseverance and perseverance produces character and character produces hope. And hope doesn't disappoint because of the love God poured out to us in our hearts by the Holy Spirit. And how can I grieve to deeply or dive to far into self-pity when I know that I have forever to sit with my Father and my dad. I rejoice in the hope that God has given me because I know that what God chose for me was good. It was best.

He chose a dad for me who chose best. Ultimately, dad chose best. He chose God.

And so now I have a beautiful thing to teach my children. I get to tell Loralai about what it looks like to choose God and what it looks like to live apart from God. And God gave me a story close to my heart to show Loralai what love is. For the rest of the generations to follow after me, our children and our children's children, will know what love is. They'll finally understand what it is to see the face of their children. To hold them for the first time. To look at the eyes, and sweet mouths and thick thighs and stare in awe of the creation that God knitted in their mother's wombs and fire will be ignited. They'll know the story of all of those who went before them and chose hope. Those who chose Love. Those who chose to let go of their sin, of the things of this world that were binding them from letting loose and letting Jesus live inside of them.

And so the newness of loving my baby, my toddler, is restored. It's just changed. I don't look at the eyes and nose and mouth of my newly created infant in wonder of creation as much as I used to. Because now I look at her and think - from the lips of my mouth she will hear life or death. My motherhood will help a child chosen to be mine, choose. And choose Love.

I pray that all of us use our lives to help foster Love into our children so that they might receive the love of God.

His eyes were so blue, his hands so beautiful, his hair so black, his voice so dad. And I miss him. But I rejoice in knowing that loving him for 27 years, here was fine. Because forever with him will be even sweeter.

Romans 5 (suffering)
Jeremiah 1 (being set apart)
Luke 10 (choosing)
Proverbs 18 (power of our words)