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Friday, February 20, 2009

The Unforgotten One

As the due date for our second child inched closer, I wondered, would I have another boy or a girl. Just like my family of origin, I envisioned raising my own son and daughter. Two years into raising my baby boy, all seemed well. Yet as I pondered raising a girl, feelings of insecurity settled over my rapidly expanding frame. Was I woman enough to raise a daughter? Translation: could I see to it that she would never feel insecure, abandoned, or rejected?

A few months later in a dimly lit hospital room, I had my girl. Insecurities be damned, I would rise to the challenge -- I had a daughter now, and she needed me. We named her Georgia, a family name. Those first few days were spent memorizing the sights and sounds of this new little life.

Over time, euphoric feelings gave way to the reality of new routines and challenges. Our family would grow to accommodate another addition. It wasn’t a person; rather, it was the disease of mental illness enveloping my son. Of course it could have been anything -- addictions, a broken home, death, violent crime, unemployment, or any number of devastating matters that impact individuals and families on a daily basis. For us, it was this.

And so it was, the son who first held the mantle of firstborn, would lose his grip, in many ways. And the one who was born a baby sister would take on that mantle. I can't begin to explain what a complex and delicate process this has been. Yet within the transformation I have discovered two strong and courageous souls who, by God's grace, continue to persevere in trying circumstances.

In the midst of the constant insanity that is our life, there is still that girl – the one I longed to have, the one I had so feared failing. Just a few short months from now, my baby will leave the nest. Time, playing out in slow motion, yet also passing at breakneck speed, has produced quite a gem. Georgia has grown to be a special young woman. It’s not that I feel she is superior to others. The Creator’s knack for producing incredible individuals is unquestionable. It’s just that I have so enjoyed watching this particular one grow and evolve into such a person of substance.

Eighteen years ago, I aspired to give Georgia a perfect life. I loved her instantly because she was my child. Today I must confess, I didn’t get it all right. But my love and admiration for this daughter of mine has grown – partly because that’s what happens to a mother’s heart. But right alongside of that, in the midst of a chaotic and challenged environment, I discovered a young woman who embraces change, disappointment and uncertainty. It wasn’t the life I envisioned for her, but evidently God did.

Did she feel forgotten when we were running on fumes? Does she feel overlooked when exasperation overrides my best intentions? This daughter I had, God is still making. Every twist and turn is worthy. More and more, I’ve become a spectator. And the image that is becoming ever clearer is spectacular and eternal.

I’ve gained an appreciation for even the difficulties of life, because it is in these places that grace, forgiveness and redemption are most deeply felt. These gifts are far greater than anything I could have ever given. They, along with my love, are always there for the taking.