A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.

To My Daughter

Raychel Joye,

You have ruined me. From an eager mom-to-be with the sober knowledge that I couldn’t know how much love I was capable of you have made a fool with a heart broken by the devastating joy you brought with your arrival. When you curl into my chest I feel love. When you scream in my ear I hear love. When I catch a glimpse of you my eyes are overwhelmed with love. It’s radiant. You are radiant. I wake up every morning tired, but eager, anticipating the walk to your room where I find love personified. Nothing is the same.

You are growing so beautifully. You smile with your eyes and I see wisdom in you already. I can tell: you’re a thinker. You make your father and I so… proud. The kind of pride that is humbling. I don’t even want to know why God thought we were in any way worth giving such a perfect gift. He did it and we are exceedingly grateful. As you struggle through your milestones – discovering what frustration is while trying to roll and what pain is while teething – I pray you will never feel without hope. You are proof of it, my love. You are a reminder of the purest hope we have in Christ, a concentrated bit of Heaven. His grace is sufficient for you always and as you grow you will find that to be the deepest truth.

My time is taken up with you so this letter won’t be long, but I want you and the whole world to know that you are my heart. Even better, you are the heart of myself, your daddy and our God, lovely in the truest sense of the word. We love you. We love you. We love you.

In all devotion,

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