Maybe one day, when my daughter is all grown up and ready to leave my home, I will wake up from this surreal moment and realize what I witnessed today.
Life. Nine ounces of life, to be exact.
A brain thinking and dreaming. A mouth sucking on a miniature thumb. Ears hearing my (mumbled) voice. A dime-sized heart steam-rolling along at 131 beats per minute. A spine housing a spinal cord which directs her herky-jerky movements. Lungs expanding and collapsing each millisecond. A hand giving her cheek a pillow to rest. A stomach filling and emptying on cue when she’s full. Legs crossed like mine in my chair right now. Feet kicking my wife’s tummy all day long.
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them. (Ps. 139:13-16)
Intricately woven. Knitted together. Made in secret. Fearfully and wonderfully made.
Yes, Lord. Let it be so. Be with this girl even now, and do the great and mysterious work of drawing her to your Son, so that one day she might know him as Creator, Lord, Savior, and Treasure.
And to you, O beloved princess of ours, to say that your mother and I are excited to meet you would be a mighty understatement. We anticipate that day with longing. Still, we cherish you in our eyes, yet have never seen you face-to-face. We hold you dear, yet have never embraced you skin-to-skin. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. And you are beautiful.