She’s six years old. I’ve never heard her speak.
Unable to walk, she relies on the wheelchair that holds her.
If you speak sweetly to her, sometimes she smiles.
I sit with her and run my fingers gently through her shiny black hair.
She doesn’t respond to the toys I offer.
She doesn’t really know me, so she’s a little shy.
I helped her eat her bread and water at snack time,
but I’m still a stranger.
Then someone enters the room who isn’t a stranger,
and she comes vibrantly to life.
Her head swivels around at the sound of his voice.
Her eyes light up for joy when he says her name.
I watch a huge smile transform her face,
and smile myself at her happy response to his hello.
He pats her cheek and she leans into his hand.
From the minute he enters the room, she is in tune to his every move.
All her attention is focused on his voice.
There isn’t a move he makes that she doesn’t follow: even in her blindness she tracks him.
With one word from him, her world gets a little brighter.
This girl loves needs ADORES her Daddy.
I’ve been sitting with a quiet, mostly unresponsive little girl.
When her father walks out, he is carrying a
radiant, smiling little princess in his arms.
Such a simple thing.
A little girl who wants nothing more than to be her father’s daughter.
To seek his presence.
To listen for his voice.
To sit beside him.
To feel his gaze on her face.
To know that she is his.
What do I do when my God the Father calls my name?
In my blindness, can I still track His every move?
Like her, I want nothing more than to be my Heavenly Father’s daughter.
To seek His presence and never want to leave it.
To listen for His voice through the whispers of the world.
To sit beside Him in stillness and trust.
To feel His gaze on my face and not fear what He might see.
To know that I am His adored one. His alone.
“You make me know the path of life; in your presence is unbounded joy, in your right hand eternal delight.” – Psalm 16:11
