The Rear View Mirror

I look in my rear view mirror frequently and see her little face as we drive from here to there. These days she serenades me in a sweet and 7 year old tone along with the radio songs that play. (Diversion:  I can't believe I just wrote "7 year old"!)  "You're a good, good Father", she bellows with a strong and loud conviction.  Her certainty I know at this point comes from her confidence in just knowing the words.  I listen with a fullness in my heart anyway.  I catch another quick glimpse behind me.  I pray.  I pray that her conviction will surely develop into that bold relationship with our Good, Good Father someday when she can fully embrace the words and lyrics she repeats.  I then find my mind looking in the rear view mirror of life to the first few days she was new to our world, and ours to hers.  I still can hear the sounds.  The melodies of a toddler's limited Mandarin re-plays mentally.  I can clearly still hear the demands for milk and other "necessities" that she deemed important.  All in an entirely different form of communication of course.  Mixed with two year old noises that we,  her new parents were just supposed to know and understand.  We innocently struggled as we fumbled around to just meet her basic needs in those first few hours of parenthood.  And now, five years later, I listen as my daughter sings about our Jesus in plain English.  I thank Him, as I do often, for graciously placing her into our lives.  I love seeing her in that mirror.  I smile. She smiles back. My heart smiles.  I refocus ahead, and I hear her giggle.