Wednesday, May 17, 2017

What she doesn't know.

Tonight was Harriett's last high school band concert.  It's the end of an era of watching her play her french horn. I took a bunch of pictures, since that's what I do, and I wonder if she knows what's happening in my heart.

She doesn't know.

There's so very much she doesn't know, and she really is a very smart girl.

There are things I want her to know.  I want her to know she's loved, and that she has a home with people who love her that she can always come back to.  She knows that.  I want her to remember that wherever she is, she's never alone, because God is so much a part of her that he lives in every cell of her being, rooting her on and encouraging her, if she listens for his voice.  I'm pretty sure she knows that too.  I want her to be able to tell who to trust and who to avoid.  I want her to be confident enough to see the whole wide world, and find the love in it.  

There are also SO MANY THINGS I don't want her to know.  I don't want her to know desperation.   I don't want her to know abandonment.  I don't want her to feel betrayal, or the pain of being deeply, physically hurt by someone who is supposed to love her. I don't want her to know addiction. (Except to well-written novels.) I don't want her to know terror or crippling fear. I don't want her to know, PERSONALLY KNOW, the world that the TV shows all portray that seem so foreign to the way she was raised.  I don't want her to see the badness of the world as the reality of the world. I don't want her to know hatred.  

I know she's going to grow up and know things that I can't even imagine yet.  I pray that she ALWAYS knows love.  I pray that she will always be my dear, sweet, kind-hearted, book-loving, french-horn playing, softball pitching girl. I pray that she knows she is wonderfully and fearfully made in the image and likeness of God.

I hope she teaches the world some of what she knows. She knows love.