This Babe

A couple of nights ago, as I was slow-dancing my baby girl around our bedroom as she mumbled her last few fussy syllables of the day, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My husband was out of town for work and we were alone in the house, and I was singing softly in Edie's ear as we bounced across the floor. I check her face in the mirror above my dresser often during our nightly dance, to see how close to sleep she's getting, to make sure she looks comfortable. But on this particular evening, I noticed myself on accident--my own tired face, my disheveled hair up in a bun, pulled to the side of my head by my daughter's drooly fingers just moments ago, my shirt half buttoned so she could access my breasts easily throughout the night. I took a good look at myself, and was surprised that my first thought was not, "Man, I look rough," as it has been the few times I've cared to really examine myself in the mirror in the past seven months. No, my first thought was, "Look at me, I'm lovely. This is me, exactly who I'm supposed to be in this season."  I felt beautiful and strangely unflawed in that moment.

As she dozed off and I slid onto our bed, I realized how rare a feeling this was--this certainty that I was right where the Lord intended me to be. I didn't wish to be doing more than I was doing in this moment--soothing my sweet baby into a dream was the highest calling I could hope for.  I've spent most of my adult life doubting, repeatedly asking the question, "What should I do/be? What is Your plan for me?" instead of just letting myself live.  But here I am, sleep-deprived and somehow feeling more like myself than I ever have.

Edie babe, I look down at you and see myself in your tiny face, and in you I've found me.
I love you so much.