God

You are a child of God before you are a child of mine.

The words came to me in a yoga class,

shortly after I became pregnant with you.

A wave of surrender washed over me.

I’m not doing any of this.

I’m not controlling any of this.

I am but a witness to your beautiful unfolding.

Why would that change once you’re in my arms?

A wave of fear follows.

Oh, how I long to be in control—

to hold you close forever,

to ensure your safety and preservation.

And then, again, a wave of surrender.

You are your own man,

a child of God.

He has His plans for you.

I do not.

You are your own soul—

free and wild.

You get to explore what it means to be alive,

however long God decides that is.

And when that day comes,

I pray I am long buried in the dirt,

for losing you would shatter my heart

and rob my soul.

And then it is sobering to remember:

you are a child of God

before you are a child of mine.

Surrender.

Surrender.