The child of my dreams.

Each day dawns, bright and full of promise.  The testament to life and joy.  The excitement begins, games are played until we fall exhausted into our beds at night.  I have the privilege of stewarding young minds, training them in imagination and reality.  It is full and incredible, it takes me beyond my strengths and leaves me dangling in new territory.  There is always something to be discovered, a march, through a life of dreams.

When I birthed my son I was prepared and eagerly anticipating all the things we would do, mountain biking, rock climbing, snowboarding, fully grasping life in our ever clenching hands.  Judah is fearless, he takes big heaping gulps and always asks for more.  His eyes are wide and ever open for adventure.  He is my dreamer, my risk taker.  He is my friend, quick to cuddle and incredibly aware of the moods and feelings of those around him.  He's never been a violent kid, it's just not something in him.  He cares too much, is too wildly connected to those around.  I am amazed at him, I love the time we spend and the constant pursuit of more than we can handle.

My daughter snuck into my life.  Like a mine field there's no going around her and when she is encountered, beware, there's always an explosion.  2 years ago there was not anything in me that wanted a daughter.  My life had been filled with pain and I was too afraid of the effects that would have on a little girl.  Like a red cord of agony weaving through the generations the mother/daughter relationships in my line have been filled with pain.  I decided long ago it would just be best to not hand that down and hoped that I would be blessed with lots of boys.

Exactly two years ago Eric and I drove from Eureka to Redding to find out the identity of the baby nourished and growing in my womb.  As we crested the hill and began to descend, Eric looked over and said, 'I'll be okay if it's a girl.  We just have to name her Avalyn Rhodes. It's the only name I like.'  It's the first time he was open to our having something other than a boy.

We knew even before the Dr told us, that it was a girl.  We were there because we hoped it would be a boy.  It wasn't disappointment I felt at the words.  Just fear, thin and crimson, slicing through me.  What if all I gave her was pain.  What if she screamed 'I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!'  Because I had failed.  Had left her when she needed me, misunderstood, misrepresented, and thrown her under when I should have held her up.  What if.

I knew in that moment, my stomach exposed, my baby moving.  Vulnerable.  That she would not be a life unwanted, no matter what it took I would heal my brokenness that I might give her a platform to start from.  I chose her, right then.  I became desperate for her.  Knew that I had always longed for her and despite my fear, I was the best for her.

Avalyn means desired life.

I began to dream.  I dreamt of flowers and ruffles, long talks and shopping trips.  Lying in a field of flowers weaving daisy chains, twirling for the thrill, laughing in a canopy of joy.  One day I would watch her birth life and I knew I wanted her to be prepared, without fear, to fully receive what she would bring forth.

It is amazing to me that in the last few months of my pregnancy God fully restored my relationship with my mom and her's with my grandma.  This was not a sudden thing.  Just the completion.  I'd been working through and learning to forgive and live with my past for the last ten years.  Through our healing, my mom was able to work through the hurts from her mom.  Restoration.  Healing, peace and joy.  We created a legacy of health and life.  And quietly a cord of pain turned to a stream of promise.  Strength and life.

Avalyn.  My daughter.  She is strength, in a line of strong women.  She is life without fear.  She is free to be whomever she chooses.  She is passion without limit.  She is beauty, untarnished.  She rules from her two foot height, eyes wide, hair wild, she directs all within her vicinity.  She is joy and laughter.  She is a quick smile, a dance when no ones watching.  She lives wildly and free.  She is my child.  The full explosion of a line redeemed.

I do not have mellow children.  They are an imprint in the sands of life.  They run, they shout, they dance, they grab hold of the wild ride and laugh wildly through the jarring turns and perils that leave others biting their nails.

We live.