I want so much for you.

I want so much for you, little girl.

I want a childhood filled with wonder, water ‘baboon’ fights, laughing fits, and Cocomelon dances with Dad.

As you grow older, I want your soul to grow, too. I want you to use your brain and body in ways that glorify Jesus. I want you to thrive in school and be kind to others and hit a home run or two.

I want a future of fullness for you, I hope God fills your head with dreams that are as beautiful as you are. I want them all to come true.

And then I remember the hardest part of parenting so far- acknowledging the fact that none of this falls under the scope of my job.

I’m her mom, and I’ll do my best to teach her how to use a bandage and get back up on the bike.

But I can’t promise she won’t scrape her knees, time and time again.

I’ll model to her how to treat others and herself.

But I can’t guarantee that she will be prom queen or that the choices that she makes will all be good.

I can steward our resources to provide her with opportunities and teachers and lessons.

But I can’t control the outcomes of her efforts or the situations that will come our way.

I will pray my heart out for her salvation and purpose and life’s work.

But I am not able to strong arm her future into submission.

It just about kills me- the lack of control that I have over my wild, bright-eyed child, the places her feet will take her, and the people she will meet.

Daily, I’m reminded to release my grip on her. I’m learning to let her climb the monkey bars, do the crazy jump in the trampoline, to play independently in our backyard.

I’m trying to let these reminders turn my clenched fists into open palms.. to concede my desire for control to the One who actually has it.

And on the real? I’m also getting lots of practice with box breathing, drinking espresso, searching the Bible and screeching frantic prayers.. and doing it over and over when I start ‘wanting’ and clenching her in my fists again.