My Girl

My girl.

She's the sweetest thing to me. She is my world, my sun. After losing my mom, this girl is what has kept me putting one foot in front of the other. This precious baby girl.

She's five.

She's oh so smart. Everyone thinks this about her child, but I am right.

She's oh so funny. She makes the wittiest jokes, the smartest little comments.

She's oh so kind. She snuggles me when I cry. This girl draws pictures for my mother, and puts them on her box of ashes. She takes care of me, just as I take care of her. That's family. That's my girl.

So anyway. . .

I'm freaking out.

I love, love, love her. And I know that love just won't die. I'll always love her. But I also know she's five. And well, five year olds just forget. We all do. But she has her whole life to forget me, if I'm gone.

I don't want her to forget the feel of my arms, the warmth of my snuggles as we cuddle at night. I don't want her to forget that I smooch on her nonstop or that I pick out a different favorite curl on her head every day. I don't her to forget everything or anything. You see, love doesn't die. But memories fade. I'm not afraid of dying. I am afraid of being forgotten by the most important girl in the world.

I was supposed to write letters for her, just in case. Just writing this blog has me so emotional though. I can't get past, "Sweet Mimi Girl," without losing it.

I know this is not the way of faith. That fear is lack of faith. I need to trust Jesus. But I'm new at this trusting thing, and it is a lot harder than it sounds. I trust that no matter what happens, He will provide for her. Yes. But that still doesn't mean I won't be gone.

So if you read this. Or stumble across it. If you know me. . . think of me and my girl. And if something ever did happen, please do me a big one! Please remind her. Please tell her, not just a year from now, but whenever you get the chance. Please tell her she was my girl.

I am 99.9% sure I am going to be just fine. I am just, and have always been, a worst case scenario girl. I'm going to be fine.

But just incase, she was MY girl.

I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy

down in my heart?

WHERE?

Down in my heart!

Where?

Down in my heart!





Today was not different from any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I didn't come to any new conclusions, win the lottery, or find the answer to all of life's problems.

I did, however, for the first time since my mom died, feel complete and utter joy! I hope it stays.

It was another random afternoon of cleaning, playing and hanging out around the house, and debating what to make for dinner (leftovers won). My sweet girl snuggled up into my lap crying. She was upset that I said we could not give the doggies a bath, because it is just too muddy outside. I comforted her, and my comfort led to kisses and tickles, which led to laughter and more kisses.

Now my girl, she doesn't like kisses! How can that be? When she was a newborn, I kissed her so much my lips cracked. I do not lie. I kissed her until it hurt! Maybe I overdid it? Anyway, she doesn't like to get them now, but she will give them. Since her new favorite game is counting to one hundred, she decided to give me one hundred kisses. And since she is such a sweet little thing, whenever we play this game, she pretends to forget where she is, so she has to go back and redo kisses. She does this for me, because she knows I eat those kisses right up. One hundred could never be enough for a kiss hungry mama like me. I get more like two hundred. She kisses my eyes, my ears, my nose, my lips, my fingers, even my chin! The only rule is I may not kiss back until the one hundredth kiss. For that one, it is smack on the lips, and as long as I dry my lips really, really well, I get to smootch her back!

Well, midway through this kissing extravaganza, I felt it. Something that I haven't felt in a long time. I felt the joy of being alive. The joy of having such sweetness and preciousness in my life. I immediately praised God for her, this life, this moment of joy. I thanked him for blessing me with such a strong, loving, and demonstrative relationship with my own mother, that I could have one with my daughter as well. My mom is the one who taught me the art of kisses and snuggles. I hate that my mother is gone, but she really taught me EVERYTHING I need to know. And that, is how to love. What else do you really need?

At this moment of joy, a moment of doubt then slipped in. :sigh: I became fearful. What if surgery was WRONG? What if I die? What if I don't live long enough to teach this girl all she needs to know about love? I panicked. I reached out to a few friends and shared my fear. They said PRAY. I did. Then the calm came. I realized, I want to teach my daughter how to be happy, and to do that, she needs to see me doing what makes me happy. I want her to see me run a half marathon, to go hiking in the mountains. I want her to hear me laugh as we ride bikes together, go down water slides together. I want her to learn more than to love, I want her to learn to be happy! This weight, it is holding me back. I am not as happy as I could be. Will WLS fix all my problems? No! But will it enrich my life? Absolutely.

So I have to go back to, "Jesus, I trust you." And I do. I trust that the outcome he wants for me will be what it is. I trust that if the worst case scenario happens, Jesus has my girl. Jesus will have a plan. I trust that if this surgery works out GREAT, Jesus is there for it. I trust, good or bad, or just somewhere in the middle, Jesus is going to be there to celebrate with me, or to help us pick up all the pieces.

So no more sneaky doubt during my moments of joy. They are mine, they are God given, and I am keeping them.