Daughter

Discombobulate: to throw in a state of confusion.

How many times has this happened this year? (Forgive me today if my writing is as tired and rambling as I am).  I have found that if I do not pray for a constant stream of peace, wisdom, and clarity of mind, one following right after the other, I am lost in a sea of unhappiness and forgetfulness of all I have to be thankful for. Even as I breathe and the first words of this prayer for help are spoken, I am reminded by my own request what a weak creature I am.
"Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel."
My first thought, when reading this a few weeks ago, was to be kind of offended at being called a worm. When I see worms dying slow deaths on the sidewalk I am filled with disgust, which changes to pity, and then a peculiar frustration that I can't save them all.
Think of all the worms living peaceful, worm lives in their warm, earthy homes, when suddenly the rain begins. It pours endlessly into their homes, and their familiar, safe, worm lives are flooded with horrible wetness. They are forced to move upwards, where they miserably lie stretched out to their full length, drowning on the sidewalk; they are studied by toddlers, nipped by dogs, squashed by walkers, devoured by birds, and eventually, crisped and toasted by the sun. But, I think, God smiles as he calls us a worm. We are his tiny, little, unhappy worms. Everything feels SO big, but we are so,so small and pathetic. This is why I want to see outside myself these days.
One of these things is trusting that my daughter will be provided for. What a struggle this is. Sometimes, my  eyes involuntarily fill with tears when I see a good dad playing with his kids. Sometimes, they are happy tears for those children. I love that their little cups are being filled. Sometimes, they are tears that come from a dark, empty place that I've been hiding away from the Lord's maintenance and repair.
The nagging worries that she will be "that girl"; the one you see all the time nowadays. I really don't even need to give specific details, because she is at every store in the mall and waiting at each stop light. Innocence, no, life, has been robbed early and she is twelve and has learned to flirt. She is a broken toy. She is always searching and seeking for love and security, and she will never find it.
I would like to share how this image of my future daughter has come to a crashing halt and has now been banished from my mind in a journal entry I wrote on July 1st. "It says about a million times in the Bible that God is a father to the fatherless. If she doesn't have a physically present dad now, or even later, I refuse to believe that she will be neglected or needy in any way. I refuse to believe that she will be a daughter starving for attention when she is older. Jesus, be her everything. God, be her Father. Holy Spirit, be her helper and her comforter. I refuse to be overwhelmed, pressured, inadequate, anymore. I am never alone. The Lord covers my failures with His grace, His power made perfect in my weakness. Holy Spirit, be my guide. I will praise Your name, Oh Lord my God!"

"A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land."
Psalm 68:5

Love you all. Thanks for reading. Pray for July 16th.