lesson from the heart from my daughter

Today is “Writing Wednesdays,” and I do promise to post on that later, but there’s something else more immediate that I want to share now.

A short while ago, my 9-year-old brought me morning tea and toast in bed. I’ve been up late these days, working on a couple projects, and my girls especially know how much I love a wake-up treat every once in a while to get my day started off right.

But with the delivery of the goods this morning came something even better.

“Mom, I decided I’m going to have a good attitude today. I’m going to try really hard not to grump around.”

That was nice, and I went with it, praising her efforts to turn things around on her own. The smiling sisters have been more like snarling sisters lately, and it’s obviously been bearing down on her, and getting old about now.

But that wasn’t all.

“Yeah, last night, I was talking to Gabriel and great-grandpa and God, and I just asked them to help me.”

Wow. Okay, well, this is something else entirely.

Gabriel is her brother, the one we never got to properly meet, but the one, too, whose death paved a way to her life. My daughter would not exist if Gabriel hadn’t perished prematurely. And yet, we believe those who go on before us do help us in our earthly journey; that they are there, readily accessible, desiring mightily to help lead us toward God. We can choose to ignore this precious gift of intercession, or act on it, as my daughter did.

Her words stunned me, coming when they did, so spontaneously, so innocently, so beautifully. There are times I think of Gabriel, and long spans when I do not. Hearing her soft pronouncement, so many thoughts rushed at me, including endearment toward her for taking the initiative to try to be a better person, and to use all the resources at her disposal to do so — including the spiritual ones, those things unseen but powerful nonetheless.

“Thanks for reminding me that I need to talk to Gabriel more often too,” I said. At that point, I lost the resolve to remain a mother in control and let a few tears slip down. And I think that was all fine, because our children need to see our natural reactions to the world around us, whether it be joy or sorrow or a mixture of the two, as was the case today.

I speak often about how God reaches us through others. Today, He met me at my waking and talked to me through the gentle, inspired voice of my daughter.