Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

It was Kristen who first gave voice to the thought.

"I want a baby sister, and her name will be Mary." She had been taking stock of the families with whom we went to church and had decided that something significant was missing from ours.  Everyone had a sibling but her. We agreed that it was a sad state of affairs.

We gave her a baby doll for Christmas, whom she promptly named. . . Mary. As if reading our minds, she looked us squarely in the eyes and said, ". . . just until the real Mary gets here."

"We'll have to pray and ask God to give us a baby," we told her. In her typical no-nonsense way, she was on it. Each night at bedtime she prayed, "Dear God, please send us a baby sister named Mary."

Several months later I wrote in my journal, "The night we found out about the baby, I think David called everyone from church to tell them. Kristen talks to the baby and prays for her.  We pray that she will be healthy, and that she will always love Jesus."

Over nineteen years have passed since those days of anticipation and joy. The years are filled with mental snapshots that flutter past like swiftly turning pages in the photo album of life.

A chubby cheeked, sweet-natured infant gazing up with amazement at her big sister.

A nine-month old cherub with a big pink bow on her bald little head as we handed her over to a team of doctors who would place tubes in her tiny little ears.

A serious little girl with a Dutch boy haircut selling lemonade by the side of the road.

A slender six-year old learning to swim with big gruff Coach Irwin whose voice always got softer and kinder when he spoke to "the little people."

A blonde adolescent, all arms and legs smiling through braces of every imaginable size and shape.

A lovely teen ager, becoming more and more beautiful, collecting friends everywhere she went.

And now. . .

I still see hints of the chubby cheeks and the laughing eyes, but they belong to a young woman who is becoming as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. She is growing in wisdom, grace, compassion, and faith. I have fewer opportunities to stroke her silky hair or plant a kiss on her soft cheek, but my prayer for her every day is the same as it has been for over nineteen years,

 "Lord, take care of her, keep her healthy, and may she always love Jesus."

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.  I love you!

Going with God -- More Thoughts on Sending a Child Off to College

I've lived most of my life without fear. I mean REAL fear -- the kind that makes your heart race, your knees weak, and your palms sweat.  Teaching my children to drive was an exception.  For the first time in years, I felt genuine fear-for-my-life-I-think-I-am-going-to-die fear.

I naturally assumed that the longer they drove with a licensed driver (me) in the car with them, the better drivers they would become.  Not so, said the driver's education manual. According to their research, students benefit greatly from having an older, more experienced driver coaching them through the ins and outs of learning to drive, but only to a point.

After that point, research showed, a new driver's ability to learn necessary decision making skills actually becomes hindered by having a coach in the car with them at all times. Studies showed that the student would become too dependent on the coach, and begin to rely on the coach's instruction instead of developing their own decision-making skills necessary to learn to navigate roads safely.

This principle applies to parenting as well. God entrusts children into the care of their parents for a season.  During those 18 or so years, it is the parents' privilege to teach them all they can about how to navigate the roads of life. We teach them practical skills, interpersonal skills, and spiritual skills.We teach them everything from how to feed themselves, to how to treat others, to how to maintain a relationship with God.  As best we can, we teach them all the skills they need to succeed in life.

And then we get out of the car and let them drive.

All by themselves.

It is necessary, and it is good.

What we as Christian parents know, though, is that they aren't really all by themselves.

They go with God.

God who will never leave them nor forsake them. God who walks the path ahead of them and prepares a table before them.  God who is present in the darkness and in the light. God who is their teacher, their provider, their constant companion, and the lover of their souls. God who loves them even more than we ever could. God who wants to work in their lives to do something we could never do.

If you've climbed out of the car this week, be comforted.

God didn't.

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Baby Turtles and Baby Girls -- Thoughts on Sending a Child Off to College

We all held our breath as the naturalist gently probed the sandy cavity.  He counted out loud as he pulled out eggshell after empty eggshell.  We counted with him.  "67, 68, 69."  Oh, how I wished I had been a witness to the flood of baby turtles that had boiled out of this nest two days earlier!  It must have been an amazing sight.

The South Carolina coast is a favorite nesting spot for Loggerhead turtles, and Myrtle Beach State Park had incubated more than its usual number of nests.  Tonight, the naturalist at the park was inventorying one of the nests for statistical purposes.  Several days after a hatching, turtle watchers are required to open up the nest and count the number of hatched eggs, unhatched eggs, and remaining baby turtles.  We watched in fascination as he sifted through the sand and pulled out eggshell after leathery eggshell.

"Seventy, 71, 72 . . . oh!  looks like we've got a live one in here!" he exclaimed as his searching fingers encountered a shell of a different sort -- one with flippers and a tail.  He pulled out a tiny baby turtle, no bigger than a silver dollar, and held him up for us to see.

"Oh, he's so cute!" said one little girl, voicing what all of us were thinking as we examined the miniature reptile.  The naturalist placed him gently on the sand and continued searching.  By the end of the inventory, he had placed one more live baby on the sand beside him.

"Shouldn't we put them in the ocean?" one man asked.  The naturalist explained that these babies hadn't been strong enough to crawl out of the nest on their own, so it was very important that they make their own way down the beach. "Walking the long distance to the ocean strengthens their flippers.  If we just drop them in the water, they'll swim around in circles until a seagull eats them," he prophesied grimly.

"Walking on the beach also imprints the beach in their minds, " he said, "and in 30 years, when it's time for them to lay their eggs, they will return to this exact beach.  Even though they migrate hundreds of miles away, they will always remember where home is."

We formed a line on either side of the babies, all the way to the ocean. He instructed one man to stand in the water with a flashlight shining toward the nest, and the little turtles began their long walk.  Sometimes they strayed from the straight and narrow course, and we had to adjust the line of people cheering them on.  Always we stayed on either side of them, not touching them, but rooting for them as they struggled.

The man with the flashlight, the naturalist explained, was a beacon, helping the turtles find their way to the ocean.  Hatchlings instinctively know to head toward the horizon, he said, which is always the lightest point in the sky. 

It took over an hour for those babies to travel the 90 feet to the ocean.  We cheered them every step of the way.  When the first crawled close enough to the water for a wave to carry him away, the group erupted in a shout.  His brother soon followed, and then they were gone.

I remembered that special night this week. As I send my baby girl off to college for the first time, I feel a little like I did the evening we released the baby turtles to the ocean. We've had the joy of enjoying our daughter from the time she was a tiny baby, standing beside her as she grew stronger and watching her learn to walk.  We have surrounded her with friends and family to cheer her on and give her direction.  

Best of all, we have always pointed her to the Beacon of her soul, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will always shine a light on her path to show her the way.  I have faith that as she has imprinted our home on her heart, no matter how far away she travels, she will always remember where home is.

I love you, baby girl.  Swim straight and true and make us proud.  We're cheering for you!

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