The other night I rode in the back seat with my two children; my parents were driving us to their home from a family reunion. My youngest slept soundly, even gently snoring at one point. I gazed at his face, my heart melting as the moonlight bounced off his tiny eyelashes. My arm was stretched across his car seat, over to my soon-to-be-kindergartner who was holding my hand and sweetly chatting away to me.
“Mama, can we snuggle when we get home?” she asked.
She’s been asking this question a lot lately. The answer is always yes.
In this particular moment, I became aware of the relationship I have with her as mother and daughter. It is sacred, just between us, just as my relationship with my son.
With my son sleeping, and my daughter holding my hand, my unborn third child began to gently flutter about within me. I looked to the moon and the stars and thought of the One who created it all, the One who created not only the moon and the stars and the entire universe, but also this: this family, these moments… us.
I only have them because of my Father-daughter relationship. It’s sacred, just between us. He watches me sleep, he holds my hand, he loves me.