90 days

Dear Daughter,

Today is 90 days.  It has been 90 days since I have wiped your face clean, kissed your soft porcelain cheeks, picked up medicine, changed a diaper, gotten you dressed, taken you to a doctors appointment, or held you…just cause.  It has been 90 days and I miss it all so much.

I heard a sermon the other day.  The preacher talked about sheep and how if they wander away from the flock, the shepherd breaks their legs, puts them on his shoulders, and carries them around feeding and nurturing them, creating such a deep connection that he doesn’t need to worry again about the sheep running off. You know what I realized?

I realized that your presence baby girl it made me like a lamb with the broken legs.  I wasn’t necessarily astray but I was a lamb who forgot the goodness of the Lord.  Who forgot how sacrificially he loves. The tenderness in which he serves hearts and the compassion he feels.  I had forgotten, who I was in him. I had lost my voice…..and then you came, in all your brokenness. My legs broke underneath me and the Lord so graciously placed me upon his shoulders and for the 4 years that you and I had, he fed me, he nurtured me, he created such a deep connection that I have nothing to fear.  I know that I know that I know that I know his voice. I trust who he is in me, and who I am in him.  Those years I spent on his shoulders, loving you, helped me remember my voice.

I wish I could do life with you.  That I could learn all I have with you heathly and whole by my side.  Oh to grow up and have the chance to be your best friend!  To see you mature and grow into the woman God designed you to be. Oh my heart, what a whirlwind of wonder and excitement you would have been.  A walking love tank outpouring you deep knowledge of heaven!

We didn’t get that though. Instead we had our race, and as 90 days is here, I am grateful for what we had. I am grateful that although you are not by my side, you are buried deep into the marrow of my bones.  Your voice is heard in all my conversations.  Your presence apparent in how I go about my life.  Your wisdom, your deep love, your tenacity seen in how I get up each day and face it.  My ability to turn into the Lord and lean into his chest. My ability to have my conversation, is a simple reflection of your strength to have yours.

I am your legacy.  You will not die again. To know me, is to know you.  Just like to know Jesus, is to know the Father.  You loved me, as he has always loved me, and that daughter will never die.  You came, my legs broke, and the shepherd graciously draped me over his shoulders; nurturing me into a place of totally dependancy.

It is 90 days today my sweet Katie Grace.  My pure grace.  I miss you beyond words, sometimes beyond emotion, and I am forever grateful for your presence. For your sacrifice, for your tenacious love that has changed the trajectory of my life.


Your momma with the mended legs and heart, who has leaned up her Fathers chest and started her conversation.

3 thoughts on “90 days

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  1. “I am your legacy.”

    Wow. I caught my breath and the tears unbidden rolled down my cheeks. How beautiful and terrible motherhood is. How gloriously destructive and redemptively shattering.

    I have and will continue to call you one of my heroes of the faith.

    Liked by 1 person

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