Growing Daughters in Twilight
“Mom,” she laughs, as I slouch in the chair, gripping my burning throat.
“Ouuuuuch!” I squeal and slink lower in my chair, waiting for the scalding tea to finish its course through my esophagus.
“You look like a teen ager like that,” she grins, shaking her head at me, compassion lining her face also.
The pain has passed, and I straighten in my chair. This life of raising a woman brings laughter, humility, and joy.
On the weathered grey deck outside, we catch a sunset’s hues and the last glimpses of her childhood, as time flits away with the sun. This willowy daughter stands taller than me now, and has a full-sized Holy Spirit in her. He speaks to her and through her, like he speaks to me or you. And I catch myself watching her lately.
“Mom, you’re staring at me,” she smiles quizzically those days. “What?”
It’s just that I see myself in her, and yet so much more, I see her! A woman in a child’s body, a child in a woman’s body, and a sister in the faith beside me.
How do I raise this woman beside me? With my man-child off to college this fall, time melts before me.
|Trying to see if the timer worked, we surprised ourselves once.|
Pulling her next to me on the couch, we speak of our journals, of our times in God’s word, and the God-sized dreams for our futures.The sun sinks lower outside, digital numbers on the grimy stove clock climb towards preschool bedtimes, and the moment passes.
Placing my favorite mug into the microwave for more tea, I press a minute twenty, and the seconds flash by.