A Vision For My Daughter

While I was preparing my post on Tuesday, while I was rocking Li'l Empress before her nap time, and while I was bustling around my house with her on my heels in between all my daily chores, I was praying. I've been doing that a lot more lately, it seems. Seeking the Lord for some answers to questions I have about her heart. Asking the Lord what to do about the pain I hear in her cries. Trying to listen to what HIS heart has to say about what has been going on with her in recent weeks. All while trying to manage and minister to my Li'l Empress as lovingly as I possibly can.

You see, Li'l Empress has been struggling for several weeks now with increasing levels of separation anxiety. We're fairly confident that this is a more-painful-than-normal kind of separation anxiety. I know all the influencing factors that may (or may not!) be contributing to her struggle.

(One last molar popping through, fluid in her ear from a cold,
increased activity in our family calendar, interrupted
and/or unusual daily routines, her fear of change,
her toddler's quest for independence, etc. etc. etc.)

I know all the ways that The Boss and I have agreed to tackle these struggles to help mitigate the triggers.

(routine, routine, routine, comfort, comfort, comfort,
and the occasional dose of pain meds at bedtime!)

I know that these strategies must be employed consistently, lovingly, and very intentionally to bring the structure that brings her comfort. I know it won't last forever. I know it's just a stage. I know that TWO is a hard age - for the two year old AND for the parents. We've been through some of these same struggles before, with the four older kids.

But I also know that underneath those cries that escalate so quickly, is something else. That something else is what has been driving my quest for information on parenting an adopted child. That something else is what has been sending me to my bed many nights by 9:30, for extra time in solitude and prayer. And yes, extra rest. (I swear, I did not need this much sleep when Shaggy and Dr. D were 2. Am I getting old?!) That something else is what has been occasionally keeping me up way past a healthy bed time just to finish what I started earlier in that day. That something else is what has me weighing very carefully the number of times I leave the house without Li'l Empress in tow.

That something is behind the tremors and racing heart rate that takes over Li'l Empress when the cry becomes a scream. That something is what causes her to clutch and cling to me over the simplest offense or upset. That something else is what makes her cry until she gags when she sees car keys in my hands. Or a coat on my back. That something doesn't necessarily need a name. I have prayed enough about it to know that it's there. And that it's real to my girl. AND that we as her parents have authority over it in the spiritual realm. We can go to war for her, over her, and conquer it.

But that battle is wearying. That battle is long. And sometimes very lonely. Especially when the only physical comfort Li'l Empress will receive is in my arms. By my hands. As much as she loves her Daddy and her siblings, it's to my legs she clings when her little world is rocked. It's in my arms she buries her little head when she can't face the fear one more minute. It's my name she calls when she sees me heading toward the door.

I have to admit, I am exhausted. It hurts to see my daughter in such pain. I am out of creative solutions (just for now, I am certain!) as to how I can leave the house (or the room for that matter) without hurting her little heart. For as I've said, it's more than run-of-the-mill pain of separation than an average toddler experiences. Please don't read what I am NOT saying. I am thrilled that her attachment is so strong with me. I am thrilled and grateful that she feels such security in my arms. I'm just saying that being the only one that she wants is hard. And please don't feel sorry for me or for her. It's a stage and a season. We will persevere. We will get through it victoriously. I believe that the pain she experiences at seeing me walk away is still on the overall range of typical, considering all that she's experienced in her two short little years.

So anyway, on Tuesday, while I was praying and bustling, the Lord kept giving me bits and pieces of a vision for my daughter. I'm receiving it as an encouragement to keep praying over her, keep loving on her and keep welcoming the prayers of those who love her. And as I prayed over it, I couldn't help but think that someone else might feel like this vision represents them. I am sharing it here today, begging God to keep it at the forefront of my heart and my mind as I minister to my daughter. And asking Him to make it count toward healing and hope for someone else out there as well. After all, aren't we all broken and weary at some point?

I see a dry, sparse, scarred expanse of land. Like the proverbial drought-cracked pictures one sees in nature magazines. While the colors are glorious and rich, the land is cracked. It almost looks dead, save for the little glimpses of foliage scattered here and there. Gaping canyons and pits are scattered across the landscape.

In the upper corner of the view, I see a vessel. This vessel is golden, glowing as it reflects the dry, hot sun above. Shards of light are bouncing off of this vessel, almost blinding me when I turn my eyes toward it. Looking at it full on is almost painful. The vessel tips over. Out of its slender mouth pours a honey-colored liquid, flowing quickly. This liquid is covering the land, seeking the cracks and the breaks and filling them to level. The liquid then begins to seep into the dry ground, saturating it and bringing to life the colors that were already so poignant and beautiful.

Now, those colors are luminescent and vibrant. It's as if they are alive, dancing with the reflection of the sun's rays. The ground is no longer cracked and scarred. But I can still see the fault lines. They are just full and the colors that have welled up in them are more saturated than on the flat surface of the ground. Richer and deeper. The land is alive still, but now it's full of life.

"See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43:19

The lovely pictures included here are courtesy of
Li'l Empress' "Poppa E-yi," who has a wonderful eye for
God's amazing creation and a talent
for capturing it on film.
Thanks, Dad for sharing your talent with us!