“He opened the water.”

by Misty Dawn

I have dedicated Monday mornings as a specific time to arise early and study the word of God with my daughter before school, and before work.

{Titus 2:3-4}

& while this isn’t the only time we read scripture together, it is a commitment I’ll do my very best to hold until she leaves my home.  {& if I’m lucky, maybe longer}

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My daughter is my legacy.

My daughter is a child of God.

I am a child of God.

I am to train her up in the way she should go {Proverbs 22:6} . . . but how am I to do that?  When even I don’t always know the way . . . .

{Whether you turn to the right or to the left,

your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying

“This is the way; walk in it”}

As I think about our mornings, about my legacy, about training her, and about being an infant in my own faith . . . . scripture is just pouring into my heart and mind, and I’m comforted.

{Let the word of Christ dwell in your richly}

I’m comforted by the simple fact that scripture flows through me as surely as the air  flowing in and out of my lungs . . . and many times lately I have had the privilege of seeing that scripture dwells in my daughter richly as well.

What more could any mother hope for?

Her and I were playing on the floor a few weeks back, ultimately oblivious to the world around us.  My best friend was sitting on the couch reading Jeremiah aloud.  He said, “For I know the plans that I have for you” . . . and my daughter just as sweetly and lightheartedly as can be said, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.”  I finished it off, with a smile that went from ear to ear and the most humbled, excited, and joy-filled heart, “Plans to give you hope and a future.”  I tickled her in a bliss that groups of letters, separated by words, could never do justice.

Moments like this, the moments only a mother whose been there could know, are happening more and more frequently.  My joy is being fulfilled and I’m watching it happen right before my very eyes.  {John 15:11} Kind of like the nights that I rocked her to sleep as an infant, the very definition of hope.  I knew they wouldn’t last forever.  So I savored them.  I long for them still.  She’ll never again be my infant.  But for now, she is my pre-teen.  My precious, grumpy, scattered, beautiful, and fragile pre-teen.  And I will savor this time too.

Monday morning during our time together this week, she seemed quiet and content, but a little distracted.  Happy to be up early and with me, but something was a little off.  Something was on her mind.  I decided that rather than reading to myself, I’d share with her what I was reading, and what I was learning.  I told her about the slavery the Israelites were experiencing under the authority of the Egyptians long ago.  I told her about Moses and how God was communicating with him and leading him to free the Israelites.  I asked her to consider what it would be like if we were in verbal dialogue with God himself . . . . I told her how the Israelites had come to the Red Sea and how the Egyptians were coming after them.  I looked at my daughter, void of any expectations for where this conversation was going, and asked, “Do you know what God did for them?”  She looked me directly in the eyes and with calm assurance said, “He opened the water for them.”

My world became very still.  Tranquil.  {Psalm 46:10}

I smiled at her.

And that was that.

My 11 year old was not only correct, but she knew more than I had known just minutes before.

How did she know this?  of coarse I knew how she knew, but I wasn’t hanging on to that truth, living it, knowing it, acknowledging it . .  

I have raised her to be aware of not only the presence of God, but the reality that He loves her and desires to know her and be in relationship with her.  I have advised her to pray for all things and in all circumstances.  {1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18}  I have provided her with bibles, devotionals, brought her up in a variety of churches, and she had the opportunity of attending a Christian preschool where scripture was memorized and written on the tablet of her heart . . .

Of coarse she knows . . . but I forget.

Monday evening I brought her with me, for the first time, to attend a women’s ministry gathering.  FLAVOUR.  This ministry is for women of all ages, and I believe that my young woman is more than ready to lift her chin a little higher, stretch her arms a little wider and go a little deeper into her own faith.

The message had been spoken. The offering taken.  The women were singing in worship . . . raw, and unfiltered worship.

I personally close my eyes during worship, not by choice, it just happens.  I leave this world and enter His.  I assume from natural instinct, since I had my baby girl next to me, I opened my eyes.  I looked down by my side to check on her . . . she had her right arm and hand extended toward heaven and was singing, with an innocent confidence, “Jesus at the center of all.  Nothing else matters.”

Again, I became even more still, even more tranquil.

Our Father, who has captured my heart forever, {John 10:28} holds a firm grip on the heart of my daughter, and nothing else matters.

Homework: Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.

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