I tend to be really bad with remembering days.
Like my parents anniversary. I knew it was sometime at the end of August, but for some reason, I have a mental block with the exact date…
I do the same thing with birthdays. And important passwords. I really try – and I really struggle – to remember them.
Sorry, Mom and Dad.
There is one birthday I'm not likely to forget though, because it belongs to my first born. My precious. My love.
Sunday, we get to celebrate this little munckin's second birthday.
Can ya'll believe it?
She was just two months old when I began writing this blog. She looked like this:
I was still recovering from a highly-fought c-section and was still lounging around the house in sweat pants. I hadn't cooked a decent meal in two months and hadn't slept through the night for about as long.
Remember all those really horrible far less technically correct baby photos I used to post?
Like this one?:
It's amazing how much two years can change a baby. We've gone from nursing ten times a day to a few cups of kombucha and milk in a sippy cup. We've gone onesies to tutus. Baby swings to park swings. Yellow poop to real human poop.
I must admit, I love the woman that motherhood has made me. The selflessness that it continually grows in me, the desire in my heart to serve my family, the love for others – such wonderful trails to strengthen and grow. Sure, there are moments where it's difficult to not have uninterrupted “me” time (especially when you *ahem* blog), but it's such a wonderful feeling to love on her and grow her heart to love the Lord.
I also love the reflection it shows us of our dependence on the Lord and His goodness.
The other day after breakfast, Georgia decided to wipe remnant egg yolk she found on the floor across her shirt. I snapped a *tad* bit and said sternly “Georgia, I just changed you! I just got you clean!”
Do you ever wonder what would happen if God thought this way?
We head to him on our knees, praying for forgiveness, praying that he would wipe us clean with Christ's blood – and literally, three seconds later, we're sinning again. Doing what he told us not to. Doing what doesn't make sense by his instruction. Dirtying that up which he has just made white as snow.
But he doesn't ever get tired of changing our dirty clothes. No matter how many times we smear food on them, no matter how many times we get into the kitchen cupboard, no matter how many times we dunk towels into the toilet, no matter how many times we disobey, no matter how many times we unfold the folded laundry, no matter how rebellious and difficult we are – He forgives us. And he loves us like mad.
That is the love I hope to have in my heart for Georgia.
That doesn't mean there won't be moments of frustration and correction. There most certainly have been these moments already.
But this incredible, indescribable love that a parent feels for their child is such a beautiful example of God's love for us through Christ. It's never ceasing. It knows no end. It is a crazy love.
Two years ago, before I held this little one in my arms, I contemplated if motherhood was really for me. Could I really live up to it's demands? Could I really be ‘inconvenienced' by the schedule of a child? Would I love them when they had boogers in their nose and wax in their ears and dirty fingernails?
I'd like to say I even love Georgia's boogers, but that would be a lie. I still think they're nasty.
But I do love her, in spite of them. In spite of the sin that already exists in that little heart, as it does it all of our hearts, I still love her like mad. Words cannot even describe it.
This time next year, we'll have a new little munckin in the family. There will be new boogers to loathe love. I will be nursing ten times a day. I will be back to using the baby swing. I will be back to those goopy yellow poop diapers.
And this little girl?
She will be even more of a joy than she is today.
Because each day, it gets better and better. And each day you think you couldn't possibly love them anymore, somehow your heart expands beyond the reaches of comprehension, and you do.
Happy Birthday, my Georgia Knox!