Today’s picture made my heart melt into a puddle. It’s not technically something I love, but the subject matter trumps all technicalities. This before-school bottle brought to you by Livia and her giant heart. Though I thrive within a planned out day-to-day schedule, sometimes the baby wakes up and is hungry before the clock says it’s time. And when such a thing happens it’s incredibly helpful to have a sweet-hearted fourth grader around. Not only did the Babe get fed, he enjoyed lovies in the process. We believe in lovies around here. In fact, I have a Babe and a Pooch that beg at my knees for lovies on a regular basis. Oh Livia, you who made me a mother and showed me how big my heart really was—you’re the best.

During the December Photo Project, the camera goes everywhere with me. Here the camera accompanied me and The Babe to the grocery store. It’s a glamorous life we lead.

I really don’t care if a book is written specifically for my kid or not. I’m a fast reader and a quick editor and all my theater talents of days past are now poured into reading aloud for my family. Each time I open a book, it’s my own personal stage. So when I read Max Lucado’s Just In Case You Ever Wonder—the board book edition—to my foster baby this morning, I wasn’t offended that it didn’t fit our little guy’s life whatsoever. I altered the words a bit so they were true and kept on reading.

I wasn’t offended by the words. I was broken by the reality that these words expose.

Just In Case You Ever Wonder is a charming and sweet book meant to remind a child that Mom and Dad love them, always, and are on their side. It’s a beautiful little book with big, gigantic, earth-shattering truths about who we are and who God is.

Long, long ago God made a decision—a very important decision… one that I’m really glad He made. He made the decision to make you.

The same hands that made the stars made you.
The same hands that made canyons made you.
The same hands that made trees and the moon and the sun made you.
That’s why you are so special. God made you.

Can you feel the power-packed punch of these words, oh adult who is reading this blog post? I can! These words clearly aren’t meant just for the little people in our lives, they are meant for us as well.

Lucado writes more of how special our children are, pointing out that “you were made like no one else.” And then I flip the page and land on the sentences that stop me in my tracks, that make me grieve for the foster kids in my city, that make me weep over the brokenness that exists in our world.

And since you are so special, God wanted to put you in just the right home…
where you would be warm when its cold,
where you’d be safe when you’re afraid,
where you’d have fun and learn about heaven.

Does your heart get heavy like mine does? Do you feel the incredible injustice of what it might be like to not be able to live with your parents—for your parents to not be able to provide a warm and safe home for you? It might actually be your parents who are causing your harm, or it might be that they simply can’t protect you from it for now. Either way, a child is deserving of a warm, safe home with the parents that gave birth to them, and the reality of this world is that brokenness exists.

The book goes on to detail how the reading parent will be there for the child. As you grow and change, I will be there. As you get scared—of the monsters in your closet or in your imagination, or the meanies on the playground—I will be there. Basically, as you experience the trials of life, I will be right there to hold you and teach you and love you through it.

[deep sigh]

A parent loving a child and providing the best for this child, this is the way life should be. If this is the way your childhood was, praise God for that. If this is the way your children were raised, or are being raised now, praise God for such blessings. At the same time, know that the provisions of a roof over your head, food in your pantry and a soft place to lay at night are not the reality for many people around you.

There’s a fine line to walk between getting all preachy and just sharing the truths I experience. I see that and I’m aware of it. So let me say a few final things about what I see right now. I see what might possibly be the cutest baby on the planet and he’s rolling around on my living room floor. He’s putting blocks and books and maybe even a little dog hair in his mouth (this after repeatedly grabbing the dog’s tail). He’s sitting up and falling over. He’s making hilarious growling noises and he’s drooling all over everything. He is LOVED. His mom loves him. His dad loves him. His foster mom and foster dad love him. He’s got some good things going on in his life right now and changes are being made every day to ensure he can go home again soon. He is doing well because someone intervened in his world to help. To encourage. To bless. To provide. From police officers to caseworkers to extended family to the friends and family members of us, his foster family, people have intervened. People have stopped, they’ve asked questions, they’ve pursued righteousness and goodness for this little one who cannot pursue such things on his own.

Sure, this world is marred with brokenness. But there’s always the work of redemption. Keep working, keep redeeming your own little corner of this world. And just in case you ever wonder, yes, Someone does love you.

School starts in two weeks. I confess I’m not ready to give up the late nights of playing outdoors, the easy mornings of waking up late, the freedom of summer play and summer messes and summer joys. I’m excited for the start of a new school year with new teachers and new classes and new school supplies. The structure will surely be good for us all and I can’t wait to see what Livia learns this year. But summer has a magic all its own, too, and I think I’m a summer girl at heart.

One thing I love about photography is how it can reveal so much about a specific moment in time. You’ll notice that photographers often resort to what seems like cheesy cliches to describe photography and time, but honestly, there’s great truth to what we’re trying to express!

This image charms me for many reason. I’m finding that age ten, for my child, is truly an in-between age. She’s not a babe any longer but she’s not a teenager yet either. She’s ten. She’s looking to the future and growing up (note the incredible growth from this past year and, yes, the eye makeup in this shot) and yet still a kid at heart (self-imposed bunny ears, anyone?). Look closely and you’ll find something that gives away 2014 as well; Livia’s got a rainbow loom necklace stretched across her forehead as a headband of sorts. If you’ve got an older girl in 2014 then you’ve experienced the insane popularity of the rainbow loom.

Age ten is so much fun. It has Jeremy and I feeling kind of in-between as well. We remember well the baby cheeks and toddler babbles of the past and we look forward to seeing who Livia will become as she grows up. We’re not in a hurry these days, rather we’re loving our girl, in all her bunny-eared glory, at age ten.

We were having a serious moment yesterday. One where I took Liv by the hand and apologized for some of my poor behavior. It was like I was having two conversations at once, though. There was the intentional and outward dialogue with Livia and there was another internal voice that was in awe of how beautiful she looked. Her hazel eyes reflected the smallest amount of sunlight streaming into my office and she was just amazing to look at. We wrapped up our talk, with Liv, as always, being more gracious in forgiveness than I deserve, and I pulled out my camera.

The images above are not from that moment, but they illustrate so much of this time in our lives, these fleeting moments of being nine years old and all that entails. I’m starting to understand the term “tween” because we are so so close the the maturity and adventure of the teen years and yet so far away at the same time. We vacillate between the pull of growing up and the desire to stay little and close to mom’s side. For days on end I will be amazed at the growth and quick “yes ma’ams” and the way this or that chore gets done right away, and then I’ll be a little stunned by an outburst reminiscent of what we saw at age three. Are we “in between” right now? Yes, for sure. And no, not so much. Nine has been incredible. This age is fantastic and life is more fun than ever. Ten? Bring it on. I can’t wait to see what another year brings.

Dear Livia Raine,

You are loved with an everlasting love, a love that goes into eternity, a love that knew your name long before you came into being.

Today I want to tell you about that love, the love that God has for you. It is BIG, it is POWERFUL, and it will conquer all.

This morning I met with other moms of kids who go to your school. We get together to pray for you and for your teachers, for the administration and the staff. Afterwards a few of us moms talked about our daughters and their friends. Really, we talked about the struggles our girls are having with their friends. Girls are getting left out. They’re wondering who to sit with at lunch. They are making new friends and sometimes leaving old friends behind. They cry at home as they worry about who will like them and who will want to spend time with them.

I’m no different from those little girls, from you and the kids you go to school with. I’m a grown-up but I still have those feelings inside me, those worries about who to sit with at lunches and other events. I sometimes feel like there’s no one around who wants to be with me and sometimes I worry that my friends will leave me for others who live closer or are more fun than me.

Liv, we all want to be loved. We all want for someone to stick close to us. We all cry when our feelings are hurt or when someone betrays us. There is not a person on this earth who doesn’t want to be loved.

So here’s the good news:

God loves you. You belong to God!

He chose you since before the world was formed; you are a part of his holy people and he will faithfully love you forever (Jeremiah 31:3). The psalmist says it like this, that God’s love goes all the way up to the sky, as far as the clouds. It’s a big big love. It’s a love that wraps around you and keeps you safe. When you feel like hiding or when you’re feeling small, God says you can take comfort in his arms, within the shadow of his wings (Psalm 36:5-7). He loves you so very much that nothing you can imagine has the power to separate his love from you. Not the school cafeteria. Not a third grader who won’t play with you at recess. Not someone who makes fun of you for no reason or for a dumb reason or even for a good reason. God is not like that! He is all love FOR YOU, all the time. No one will ever ever ever be able to make God NOT love you. Not death, not life, not angels, not the devil, nothing in all history before you were alive and nothing in all of the future that stretches before you (Romans 8:38-39).

You have the world, Livia Raine, because you have a God that adores you, his beautiful, smart, precious, creative daughter. He has given you eternal life through his son Jesus. He has given you his spirit, to live inside your heart and direct you each day. He has given you everything in his love, absolutely everything.

May you always know this love deep down in your heart and may this knowledge make you rise above the hard things of this world. You are loved with an everlasting love, my daughter.

I am proud to be your mama.

I love you.

Sometimes mornings are running dialogues where one of the players has the most lines. The third grader is the star with the second player, her mother, interjecting a few pointers along the way. The thoughts that are most prominent will be repeated, possibly over and over, until they are sufficiently acknowledged and understood. It seems as though this dialogue—which, let’s face it, is really a monologue—takes precedence over all else while the second and more lowly player believes that getting dressed, brushing teeth and eating breakfast are the more worthwhile activities. Sometimes the star of the show recalls Very Important Activities, like saying goodbye to her goldfish, that all of a sudden must be done before she walks out the front door. It is the second player’s job to think and act quickly, assuring the star why the fish will be fine without an adieu.

Eventually the first player carries her monologue-dialogue out the door with her. This morning it was carried into her Papa’s car and what happened there I cannot say, though I certainly can imagine. All the words and important thoughts and stories to tell are sucked out that door with her, like a vortex that leaves silence in its wake. All the flurried energy goes with her and behind her there is great silence that envelopes all the second player’s thoughts like a thick blanket. Quiet, stillness remains.

Soon enough the star will choose different words to express herself. She may share her lines with someone else on most days or perhaps even take them to an internal place to sort out before relying on the second player. I enjoy this thought as I sit in front of my computer with a cup of coffee at hand. Someday these words about little things will become words about big things and they will have power to change the world, a few characters at a time.

I’ve long said Livia reminds me of Jackson Pollack because she’d roll in paint if she could. The physical connection of paint and canvas makes her very very happy.

Our holiday break has been, well, luxuriously quiet and slow. Translation: things are getting boring around here. When Livia asked to do face paints tonight I let her. You can see the results. Some of the paint is so thick she can’t open an eyelid all the way.

Liv wants me to ask blog readers a question: What am I? (I think we played this guessing game once before and she was entertained by it. Have at it!)

Final note. After finding face paint on the floor, walls, several light switches and at least five pieces of clothing and/or towels, Livia’s mean parents have banned the substance from the house for a time. Whew.