My sweet Georgia is now ten years old. And I am not okay with it.

She is a little girl trapped in a body that is changing, a soul that desires independence, and a mind that critically thinks about everything that crosses her path. She loves baby dolls, puppy dogs, Thunderman & Bluey cartoons, and to be held. She longs for me to tuck her into her bed every night and sit and hear every word in her head. Yet, she also asks me every day to shave her legs, wear makeup and go shopping at Claire’s. She wants a phone so much she has painted a rock and carries it around like it is a phone. She rocks at board games and baking. She is constantly desiring to be older than she is and pushing me there. Ten years ago, she couldn’t eat solid food. Ten years ago, she couldn’t walk. Ten years ago, we had just finished one cleft surgery and were preparing for another cleft surgery. Ten years. A LOT CHANGES in ten years.

I can already look ahead and catch a glimpse of the moment ten years from now when I am watching her at university or engaged to be married or who knows what “adult-type life” she will be living. When I was twenty, I was engaged and about to graduate college while working a full-time job. How does this happen so fast? Where do the sweet minutes go? What is my role in all of it? What is the mission and purpose?

Lord, have I done enough? Have I done it right? Am I prepared for the next ten years? Why do the tears come so strong?

This weekend I allowed myself to time warp back into history via my phone – I know, not as cool as the good ole days when you watched home videos on your TV via a VHS or even projector with all of the clicks. I started scrolling – not social media – but my own videos on my phone from ten years ago. I watched EVERY SINGLE VIDEO from when my sweet baby girl was a newborn, one and two years old. I watched our second Christmas as a family of three – two lighter, bubbly parents overjoyed to open silly presents with our precious baby girl. While we both made comments on our personal weight gain, we were lighter not just physically but also in our spirits. Our rocky terrain of life has added weight to our body in more than one way.

I remember my years as an early adult – college and young married. My mind, heart and soul were overwhelmingly focused on Jesus and His Word. I remember the internal joy that subdued every ounce of who I was and oozed out of my face and mouth with zeal and unwavering strength and determination. I clearly remember looking at older adults in the faith and seeing sadness. Many that I looked at struck me with a deeper level of sadness and pain than I could put words to. I recall thinking to myself about how I found it strange that they had walked with God longer than I had and looked worse for it. When I was young, my internal core was nothing but joyful. Now that I have lived – fought a fight (many fights if I am being honest) – I find that I am understanding what it means in the statement to ‘choose joy.’ When I was young – I didn’t have to choose. Now that I have seen, lived, experienced pain and tribulations, I now know what it means to seek the Maker for your source of strength.

I sat at the end of that day of watching and gleaning the joy from the videos of my younger self and the sweet innocence of a young couple with a young baby girl, feeling convicted.

I had lost my joy.

In a covert operation by the enemy, I had lost my joy. When the trials came – decade long – I sealed myself up like a vault and went into hiding, while fighting. In this month of love, I am devoted to joy. In this month of love, I am devoted to fighting to protect my sweet girl from as much of the world as I can. I know what it feels like to be ignorant and blissful. I know what it means to live in the Spirit and walk in the fullness of His presence. I know today, more than ever, that my mission for my little girl is to protect her innocence, protect her joy, protect her childhood for as long as possible.

What does this mean? For my family, it may mean something different than for your family. For us it means the following:

• I immediately asked for forgiveness from my husband and children for allowing my internal joy to be stolen from me. (we do that a lot in our house – apologies on the regular)
• Asking God for the strength to stay close – intimacy with Him in a vulnerable way creates the ability to walk in natural joy.
• Re-engaging in deeper studies of God’s Word to take my depth in Him to new places.
• Preventing my daughter to be influenced by too many voices – no phone, no social media, no TV in the bedroom, no tablet in the bedroom, no tv shows/movies that we haven’t watched first. SOAP BOX WARNING: We are going to be the weirdos, but we have made a vow to one another and to our children that they will not have a phone until they are 16 years old. Why you ask? Because they are loaded weapons in the hands of children. I mean technically, loaded weapons in the hands of adults! We struggle with scrolling instead of living as adults. We get trapped with opinions of others more than opinion of God. We waste precious time on the phone instead of engaging the living beings in a room with us. We throw away moments with family around dinner tables by choosing to engage in endless scrolling and watching. As adults, we struggle. How can I ever expect my daughter who would choose candy bars over healthy nutrition to ever be able to regulate that?
• Re-creating the consistent habits that I know to be good for me – exercise, diet control, balance in work/life environment, greater protection of my eyes and ears and genuine laughter.

My desire is strong for my children to know who I am, really. When I walk in the joy that I know, that is my truest self. They haven’t really met her yet. In fact, many new friends haven’t. These last ten years have been dark – deep loss of friendships, normal life, routines and things of comfort. I am excited for the next ten years with my sweet girl to be the best ones yet. She deserves that. And so do I.

Mercies are new every day. And today’s mercies are incredibly special.