She’s two!

My first baby turned two this week.

She happened to turn two just two days after a fire roared through our valley, destroying 30 homes and evacuating hundreds more. Including our own home. For the first time in my life I got to personally experience the oft-asked hypothetical question, if there was a fire what do you grab from your house? The list included mementos from China, computers and hard drives…and for my husband apparently, the vacuum cleaner.

I had decided several weeks ago that instead of an elaborate birthday party, we’d do a small dinner gathering with grandparents. I just didn’t have it in me this year to plan a big to do, and I knew my girl would be perfectly happy with some of her favorite food and her favorite people. After the fire evacuation and at best two hours of sleep that unforgettable night, I was happier than ever with this decision.

But the size of the party did not reflect the amount of joy we had in celebrating our firstborn. How do I begin to describe this little girl to you? Do I start with her bubbling sense of humor, and impeccable comedic timing? Or the way she draws people in wherever we go? Or the way she thinks “thank you, you’re welcome” is all one phrase?

Or how she dances and giggles with abandon to the music her little pink car plays? Or her toughness (scraped knees and banged elbows are nothing to this girl)? Or her strong independent spirit – which means she’s quite good at entertaining herself, and not always as good at receiving direction? Or the way she still confuses “up” and “down”? Or how she reaches her hand out between the crib rails to hold mine while we pray and sing before bed?

There are a 1,001…and then some more…things I love about this girl.

Her current favorites at two include books (or anything book-like), coloring, “the monkey,” Mickey and friends (you will catch her randomly throughout the day exclaiming “oh toodles!” – parents of toddlers will immediately grasp this reference), berries of any kind, almost any kind of soup, carrots, cucumbers, and ice cream. She loves to go play in the “wawa” wearing her “baby” (bathing suit).

I’m fairly certain she thinks the greatest evils in the world are tomatoes, vacuum cleaners, and “hots” (heat lamps). I’m fairly certain the vacuum cleaner would not have been on her fire evacuation list.

Tonight marks exactly three weeks from the day when I’ll pack up and leave Wenatchee for Seattle. And leave this vivacious two year old behind. There are lots of hard and scary and unknown things tied up in that move, but leaving her is one of the hardest for me at the moment.

I’m privileged to be at home with her everyday. For two years (absent a few short trips) I’ve been there day in and day out. I’ve had a front row seat to her development. I know her. I understand her words, I know what she likes and dislikes, I know how to comfort her, and correct her. I delight in the 500 small moments of the day – like examining a particularly interesting bug through the window. Don’t get me wrong, raising a toddler is not all rainbows and happiness and there are plenty of times when I want a break. But at the end of each day, with her smiling face fixed upon me, her tiny hand in mine, and her goodnight “wuv oooo” on her lips, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And when I think about not being around, for an indeterminate amount of weeks, for all those small moments. For all those new words and tiny milestones. To kiss her owies and coax her giggles. My goodness it breaks my mama’s heart.

And after breaking my heart, my next move is to fear. How will she interpret my absence? How will she cope with the change in what she has always known as steady and constant? What will be going through her little mind and heart? How will this effect her attachment to me? And my broken heart transforms into a panicked heart.

Lately, though, I’ve been hearing that small still voice calling me to trust.

You trust that I have chosen Arabella as your daughter. You trust that I am working for your good and her good, and that I am perfectly writing her story. Do you trust that in all of this I am also working for Eliana’s good? That I have chosen her at this time as Bella’s sister? Do you trust that I know her even better than you, that I will be with her when you cannot, and that I will weave this time perfectly into her story?

Let me be honest. It’s easier to trust the Lord’s goodness in my own life than in my daughter’s. I know the Lord knows her even better than me. I know He is quite capable of watching over not only her physical safety, but her little mind and heart as well. But do I deep down believe that? Believe it in a way that quiets the fear and gives unexplainable peace? In some moments, yes. In some moments, no. And so once again, I daily battle to conquer my desire to control with belief and trust in the one who is truly in control. And I daily pray for this little two year old treasure of mine and her little heart. Will you join me in those prayers?