Holding a Dream

I'm holding a dream.

When I look down at her,
I see hope manifest-
I see prayers I can touch.
I see my daughter.

Her little fingers and toes-
Her eyes and her nose,
Perfectly formed
by God's own hand-
Masterfully molded
where once there was naught,
Created, designed
in the midst of loss.





She is His handiwork,
a being like no other.
Sent by God in his timing
to help heal this mother.




She is a light
that shines brighter than most;
For hope is more radiant
The greater the cost.

God is so good,
and merciful and kind.
This child is his,
Not mine.

Yet, he entrusts me
with this most precious gift,
To love and teach her
who He is.

My heart is full
as I reflect,
on the journey we've traveled
to sit where we sit.

Surrounded by graciousness,
Prayer and support-
Our baby girl
is a product of love.

Dear God above,
we give thanks.
For you are magnificent,
and greatly to be praised!