Her big eyes find me and I see the need behind them. She’s stuck in that tender, impossible place of having grown beyond my lap and yet finding herself wanting to take refuge there now more than ever.
Because growing up is rough. And scary.
She seeks me out and clings to my arm countless times in a day. She wants me near and shadows absolutely every move I make. I see myself, in word and deed and for better or worse, being lived out in the slender frame of my quickly growing girl.
Somedays it threatens to suffocate me. Her need for me and my need for space. Because I’m not the touchy-feely-est person by nature. And my secret desire is often to just *be*, in peace and in quiet.
But I know I’m laying the foundation for the years just ahead. The years where she’s pulled hard by the world and my voice and my lap are not her greatest source of strength. Because today she needs me to show her Jesus. His will and His very patient love.
Yet in a not-too-far-off tomorrow she’ll stand alone, choosing her master. She will decide for herself and I want more than anything for her to decide well.
And so when she clings and I, at times, inwardly recoil, the Lord reminds me this season is short but the seeds I sow determine the harvest in the very most important of tomorrows.