W is for Wonderstruck: A Moment in Awe of the Great Author

I have a general aversion to being kicked in the face.

It is for this reason (and not because of any particular parenting philosophy) that I encourage my toddler to sleep in her crib. I try my best to keep her out of the bed, but sometimes it's inevitable. This week, we've been traveling, which means Little Miss has had to endure the uncomfortable confines of the portable crib. This would have been bad enough had she not come down with a cold. Just when we thought we had hit rock bottom, her two-year molars began to make their appearance. It's the toddler trifecta of sleeplessness, and conditions have been favorable for me being kicked in the face.

I awoke around 3:30 this morning to an especially rousing roundhouse kick.  

Unable to go back to sleep, I spent some time staring at my sweet little girl, who is really quite precious when she's not hurling her feet in my direction. Any mom can relate to this moment of pure awe; looking down at a perfect little human who once didn't exist and being wonderstruck by her presence.

I have been thinking a lot about characterization during my editing process, about what makes us who we are. In this early morning moment, I felt an indescribable reverence for the one who created this little girl. I have suffered loss and know full well that it is impossible for a heart to beat by man's will alone. I am certain this beautiful (and at times, spritely) person is the work of a great author. An author who has perfected the human character sketch in our DNA, and who adds His unique touch to each special creation. In a way I am thankful for being kicked in the face this morning, because it provided a welcome glimpse into this beautiful truth.

You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared    before I’d even lived one day. (From Psalm 139, The Message)