Wednesday, November 12, 2014


On Sunday after church, I took this picture. Sammy was walking around and I was trying to capture her cute face. It wasn't working. I figured that none of them would turn out but at least I had tried. When I stopped to look at the hundreds I took in about 20 seconds time, I found this one. At first I thought it was cute and moved on. But all day I kept going back to it. I couldn't stop looking at it. And I still can't. There's something about it that I adore.

Sammy as the focal point makes sense. In many ways our family revolves around this one little girl. Everything we do is done after consideration of Sammy's needs. She's special, and that's ok. It's good. We are learning patience and compassion. Callie and Micah have both taken an especially deeper tenderness towards her lately. I'm not sure what it is, but Callie is always trying to comfort her, calm her down, hug her, play with her hair. She's sweet with Sammy. Micah has been mimicking Callie's ways and it's been beautiful to see this little toddler love his older sister so gently.

I love her hands curled upward. Well, in many ways I despise it, but those hands are precious to me. They are held upward, toward her heart. They are curled into tight fists and curled inward at her wrists. These hands don't serve her as my hands serve me. What she wants done is not accomplished with these balled up hands. They struggle to put food in her mouth properly and cleanly. They do not hold onto objects very well, and once in her hand, they don't release what is being held. For that reason, she has to use the force of her arms to fling it out of her hands. She reminds me how much I take my hands for granted. As I sit and quickly type my thoughts, she struggles to open her hand. For the past week or so, I've been giving Sammy massages before going to bed. I rub out her legs and feet. I finish by rubbing her arms and hands. She becomes so relaxed allowing her hands to unfold and remain free from pulling tight tendons. This has become a special time of day for us both. She falls asleep almost instantly after her massage and I walk away feeling the love you only feel after giving service to those you love.

I love the light that is shining in through the curtain. It creates a soft glow around her and I'm reminded of the light that only the Savior can provide. I see this light in Samantha. I wish I could say that I see it constantly. I don't. My eyes are veiled at times from my own inability to look beyond the moment. Sometimes the teeth grinding or the squeals that are so loud they pierce my ears, or the daily tasks of life get in the way of seeing the light of Christ emanate from her eyes. But occasionally I stop and see it. I stop and absorb it. I have always felt like Sammy is surrounded by angels. I believe that to my core. It's not just a belief, really. I know there is no way she could be where she is today without angels protecting her. She has a reason to be here. She has a mission to accomplish, and I feel really blessed to be a part of that. I do believe that one day, I will see her robed in so much light that I may be blinded by it. That it won't be until I'm sufficiently purified that I will be able to see her fully as who she is. Oh, I truly believe she will be among those who will usher me to my Savior. I love her so much.

I love her little smile and long face. Quite frankly, she is one of the most beautiful children I know. Hey, I get it. People stare of her sometimes. They are surprised by her unusual looks. But she is stunning to me. I think it goes back to that light that shines from her pores. Her soft skin, her rosy lips, her honey streaked hair. She's so beautiful to me. I love all her imperfections because it's who she is.

I love Micah in the back. In his church clothes still, walking with his little Micah swagger, I love his blurred image behind her. It completes the picture for me. He's the visual reminder that in our family, we've all got each other's backs. We're there for one another. We will protect and love no matter what. We won't step out on each other. We will be there. There's a lot that could happen in this lifetime, but we'll be there for each other.  

1 comment:

Heidi said...

It's not just you--it's a very special picture. This is a beautiful post.


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