Absolutely unthinkable how we turned around and she turned ten.
How could she go from zero to ten within the blink of an eye, and a whole decade went flying with the blow of a candle?
How rapidly has time elapsed — and here we are, down this memory lane.
It’s hard to see her grow, and not grow with her.
The day she turned ten, she walked up to the school’s podium to receive her award.
She stood at the edge of the stage, paper and glass plaque in her hand, her face beaming at the camera with a smile a mile wide.
She’d confessed afterwards, how she’d waited in her seat nervous, her heart pounding fast.
She wondered if her name would ever be called, or that she’d ever be named.
She had wondered with the rest of her grade through that school assembly if anyone would acknowledge their work or if their efforts would mean anything to anyone at all.
Sometimes all we want is just a piece of paper, a pat on the back, a raise in salary, that recognition.
Sometimes what we really desire is just for someone to simply say that we’re worth it, that we’ve made it, that we’ve done what we alone can do.
But we can chase after all that recognition and still never attain it.
We may spend our lives seeking that one approval and never obtain it.
Will our hearts ever find a home where we can be accepted and loved, just as we are?
Because if you ever thirst for significance, this is the thing:
We will let the world name us unless we allow the Word to define us.
And isn’t it true: how can we ever make our mark in life unless we allow God to mark us for life?
During the months leading up to her birth, her Dad and I sought long and hard for a name.
We prayed hard for a name that she would enter her world with.
A name to embrace her even as her forming body nestled in my womb.
A name that would identify her personhood long before her productivity.
A name unique to her own special calling in life.
How we’d talk late into the night about what she’d one day become.
We’d sit there, clueless about what this whole shebang of parenthood would mean, grappling with everything that was changing around us.
But the Word has always been clear about what it says regarding our children:
That Peace would hallmark our children.
And all thy children shall be taught of the LORD; and great shall be the peace of thy children. (Isaiah 54:13)
This Peace would reside in the hearts of our children, guide them through various situations and life transitions and protect them from internal turmoils and external troubles.
And this Peace? He is a Person — He would name us, call us, and lead us.
How we begged God for spiritual clarity in a world filled with moral confusion and for a vision amidst societal compromise.
We asked for the gift of identity, a gift that would empower her in a world that would unfairly label and stereotype her, and every one around her.
That the Spirit of Sonship would dispel the spirit of orphanhood, and rest upon her like a wreath reminding her of her true beauty and who she really is.
And I kept reminding myself:
That our children would never have to live in the shadow of another.
And on that night she turned ten, I lay beside her, listening to the rhythm of her heart, and reminding her of the true meaning of her name.
I whispered to her that on the day she got up the stage, I had sat there at the edge of the row snapping away pictures on my phone, my vision blurring with all the children on and off the stage that day.
That afternoon I had spotted a boy her senior that day who had been through storms that year, playing the saxophone with all his heart.
I told her that I hadn’t seen a child shine brighter than him that day.
That perhaps it didn’t matter who got called up and who did not, as much as the fact that every child has the potential to shine in their very own right.
I whispered to her that night what I had longed to hear as a child:
That she is loved for who she is before she can demonstrate anything worthy of others’ praise.
That she is free to be whomever God has called her to be and there’s no stereotyping around that.
That this is the path to leading culture rather than being led by it.
Because this is what I am beginning to learn:
Comparing ourselves to others leads us towards mediocrity. Seeking success based on others’ standards brings forth intimidation.
Instead of spending a decade striving for others’ acceptance and striving to be successful in the eyes of others, why not spend your life living up to who the Word says you truly are?
“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” (Romans 8:15)
We can cultivate excellence instead of the spirit of striving, and see the harsh edges of rejection erased with this gift of identity.
Knowing who we are can truly lift the shroud of what the world says we need to be, because we are simply loved for who we simply are.