The leaves have gone golden, a sure sign that it’s birthday week at the Websters. The flag hangs on the front porch announcing glad tidings.
My daughters keep growing up.
Just the way they’re supposed to.

In the next couple of days, one of them changes status and starts checking the adult box on all her official paperwork.
And the oldest, she’ll turn one year shy of a quarter of a century. Then, a few days later, we’ll drop her off at the airport. She’ll board an economy airline and fly far, far away until it’s almost next year’s birthday.

God added these ladies to our family a few days apart on the October calendar.
And, they’re more like each other than either of them realize, which might account for the rub sometimes; but,  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

They might be little, but they are fierce.
Fierce to speak in defense of what they believe to be true.
Fierce to love and protect their own.

And they are also tender.
Both Sensitive.
Caring.
Even fragile.

Uniquely distinctive too, each bringing their own grace and beauty to the world according to God’s master knitting and pearling their DNA and writing their individual stories.

When I sit down and page through the photo albums, my predominant sentiment is overwhelming gratitude.
I asked God to make me a mama. And these are 2 of the children He answered with.

Like a great big present pristinely wrapped, He gifted them to me.
And God said,
“Here you go. This is for you.
You get to be the one to put the Band-Aids on their owies.
You’ll lay next to them late at night and listen to their stories.
You’ll multiply kisses and hugs by 365.
You’ll teach them to read.
You’ll tell them about me when you sit and lie down, at home and on the road. And there’s going to be lots of on the road….
They’ll learn to talk to me because they hear you do it.
It’s your love that will give them a glimpse of mine.”

So, I have loved each one with all that I am and all that I have. Oftentimes, it’s felt sadly deficient and profoundly flawed but somehow both because of and despite me, here they are, each beautiful image bearers of the power of the gospel.

And this is my birthday blessing to my girls, Robyn and Angela.

In the night, He is with you
At morning light, He is with You
Do not fear, for He is with you.
When I’m not here, He is with you.

Rest your eyes, He is with you.
I pray you find, He is with you.
When I let go, He is with you.
And I can know that He is with you.

You are mine for a moment.
But you are His. Forever His.
And in this life, I am holding You.
But in His arms you live.

I couldn’t love you more.
No, I couldn’t love you more.
No, I couldn’t love you more.
Oh, but somebody does, Jesus.
Somebody does, Jesus.
(I Couldn’t Love You More, Matt Hammitt)

Entrusted into my care for a season.
Grafted into my heart forever.
Grateful.