My Baby Girl

I'm calling it. Clare's first word, word that she clearly, discriminately knows, is "baby." I mean, of course she's not perfect; she's not even 11 months old. Even so, she says it, identifies it, crawls to it, steals it off the fridge.

Happy early morning with Baby.

I watch as my baby holds her baby, babbling and giving it sweet, open-mouth baby kisses.

I think about her vocation. How God already has a plan for her. About how our job as parents is to foster a love for God deep enough that she may hear His voice when the time comes.

I think about our call to motherhood. How, as women, we are all called to motherhood, in one way or another.

I think of her call (I hope) to be a big sister. To lead and love her siblings -- her lot in life as the first born.

I can't help but think ahead to that future moment when I see my baby -- all grown up and facing the world -- hold her baby -- a tiny, precious new life.

I weep.