I don't care how hard it is, how much it hurts, how much it cuts into what I wanted and planned. If it will make this beautiful little girl happy or make her life better, I'll do it.
Saying that feels very natural. She is my daughter after all. My body sheltered her for the better part of a year, and during that time-- while I had to give myself up for her whether I liked it or not-- I learned to do it in love. That was before I had a choice. Now I can choose, but it still isn't even a question, really. When she cries, my heart twists. When she needs me in the middle of the night, I go.
God made it easy for me to love Ellie. She is cute and sweet. She gurgles with happiness, flaps her arms when she's excited, and lets out hilariously loud burps after eating. How could you not love this?
So then I think: God ran after me when I wasn't the least bit lovable. He had made me, protected me, sustained my life, but I didn't give a rip. Ellie smiles when I pick her up-- until He opened my eyes, I wasn't smiling. I was scowling in His direction and trying to hide. It couldn't have been easy (at least in human terms) to love a rebel, let alone die for her. Yet here I am, enjoying life as His precious daughter, confident in His faithful care. That is amazing.
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