Giving birth is hard, not simply physically but over the top emotionally. It is difficult when you realize that your plan A was scratched and you are living on plan Z, and all the demons held at bay go rushing into a field day. It is difficult when giving birth to your little girl looks nothing like you were planning and hoping for. It is difficult when you have a beautiful, healthy baby and your selfish nature is ruining your perspective. I get it. Believe me, I get my own selfishness.
But when your plan A is scratched, torn and ripped to pieces it is easy to scratch, tear and rip yourself to pieces, too.
Dad, you always taught me that if I work hard enough, dream big enough, spread my wings out wide enough, I can. You always believed in me. But somewhere in the midst of the labor and delivery hallways, I confused this notion that if my dreams aren’t matching God’s dreams; I wasn’t meant to fly anymore.
I forgot that God sends us trials to see if we really trust in His design for our lives.
Instead, I threw arrows directly at it.
I forgot that God is wanting us to persevere,
instead I wallowed in defeat.
And when given the opportunity to flourish,
I threw a bleeding dart right down the center of God’s perfect plan.
Because it wasn’t my plan, all I felt was my wings being clipped – when that wasn’t that case at all.
That isn’t part of His plan at all.
Finding moments to let the tears flood is nearly impossible with the bombarding forces that come with birth. Nurses and wonderful family members, friends and doctors. All bringing love and support, care and concern, but I needed a moment to cry all my tears out of all the places aching inside of me. I took my very beautiful and very healthy girl and we ran to a quiet hallway. Serene. Serene until I got there.
I just balled. I balled and balled and balled.
Yes, because my plan wasn’t matching God’s.
Yes, because my heart was aching.
Yes, because everything wasn’t working out according to my timetable.
But mainly because I knew how crazy I was being.
And sometimes a girl has to get out all her crazy.
I walked calmly back to the room and waited for you, dad. I waited for you to get there. I needed you to tell me it would all be ok. I needed you to let me cry. I needed your hug. I needed your words. I needed you, dad. And you came.
Thank you for coming.
We went for a walk together and you held me by my side. You reminded me of all the good things. You held my heart right in your hands. You let me get your shirt wet with tears and you sent promises that reassured all my aching places.
You, dad, erased the lies echoing in my mind and filled them with all the truths. And I am thankful to have a dad that brings truth rather than playing into all my lies. You have served your purpose here on earth, dad. You have reminded me what love is. You have pierced the darkness with light. You have filled up my places with hope and purpose.
You loved me like my Creator does.
So daddies, everywhere, no matter the age of your daughters, no matter their places, their hearts, their sorrows. We need you. We need you to hold us. To speak promises to us. To remind us our wings fly when under God’s care. We need you to spur us on and encourage us. We need you to hold our hands.
Never stop daddies. We need you. We need you because you give us tangible love for the unimaginable love our Almighty God has for us. You keep our wings flying in the direction of the Glorious One.
Love you dad, up to the stars and back, around and around never ending.