I danced with my daughter today. She cried and she fussed, so I swayed and I crooned, holding her close by the water’s edge at the beach.
I sang to my daughter today. I whispered sweet love songs as she fought against sleep, holding my precious fussing bundle close as the waves tickled my toes.
I snuggled my daughter today. I breathed in the sweet scent of her sea salty skin, drinking in the shape of her head nestling by my heart. And as I danced and sang, cuddled and crooned, she sucked on her fingers, exhaled deep, and slept.
And while she slept, I wrapped my heart around the memory of that simple embrace, that unusual dance by the waters edge that she and I shared, but only I would remember. My eyes drank in the sight of her face pressed close to my chest, all frustrations caused by earlier cries and fusses firmly forgotten as I marvelled at the miracle in my arms.
With every note I sang, I willed her to know that she was fiercely, jealously, outrageously loved. That she had been from the very beginning, and that she would be, always and forever, come what may in all the in-betweens. With every sway and every cuddle, I wanted her to know that I would fight for her and protect her. That I would love her and champion her corner, that I would be a safe place for her always, and that I was proud of her.
And as I held her, I felt a greater celestial embrace wrap itself around my own heart. I became profoundly aware of an all consuming reassurance that I too was closely held, fiercely loved, and utterly safe, an indescribable deep knowing in the deepest part of me. And I remembered that the dance I was dancing and the love song I was singing was part of a bigger picture, an incredible tapestry of parenthood and adoption, of rescuing and redemption, and a “wonderful, never-stopping, never-giving-up, unbreaking, always-and-forever love” that this precious little kids book sums up so beautifully and eloquently.
So we danced, she and I, an unlikely pair in an unusual dance spot, oblivious to onlookers, aware only of each other. And when the moment passed and it was time to relinquish my sleeping child to her buggy, I sent a silent thank you up to the Father who I know will never let go of me, and who I will dance with into eternity.
“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God!”
1 John 3:1