Karissa Beth.

31 years ago today, I woke up in the middle of the night, knowing that it was time. We were at Mom and Dad’s for the weekend to celebrate my birthday, six more weeks of pregnancy to go. And it was the scariest, best birthday ever. The small town hospital could not handle a six week premature delivery, and so my yet-to-be-born daughter and I were transported to Wichita. When I saw my baby girl for the first time that afternoon, I fell so in love with her. She was so tiny at 4 pounds, 8 ounces. She was like a little doll, so fragile and perfect. And from that moment on, my heart hurt and swelled as only a parent’s heart can.

Over the years, it was my joy to celebrate her birthday, a miracle that came around every 11th day of January. It was my joy to plan her parties, to make a big deal of birthdays, because birthdays should be a big deal. Life is to be celebrated, and those precious to us should know how special they really are, at least once a year.

My little doll, my tiny Karissa Beth, is now a grown woman, a mother of four with another child growing inside. I do not have the opportunity to see my daughters on their birthdays any longer, these days that are milestones in this Mama bursting heart. Sometimes this day is tough, and one that I would like to spend all curled up fetal under covers until the sun rises on the 12th and all is past. I allow myself the space to hurt on this day, and I will not apologize. It’s my day, too, after all. How’s that song go? It’s my party, I can cry if I want to…

So, the day started with another dozen roses, white this time, when I walked into the kitchen, and two “Happy Birthdays,” and then church and a great message. Music from Resurrection Singers that cut through the pain to the core and allowed me to smile through. My hand held by the man who loves me. This man, who surprises me with flowers and tells me many times a day that he loves me. My Dad sitting next to him. My Dad, preparing to begin another chapter of his own life in the next month or two, and I will be the privileged one to be a small part. Psalm 121 on the screen, a reminder of the music my daughters sang at Mom’s memorial service. ” I will lift up mine eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help, my help cometh from the Lord…” That tap on the heart to remind me that there is so much to be grateful for, even in the pain. Through it all, it IS well. Through it all, I AM grateful for all that has been, all that is, all that will be.

I am grateful for this life that has been. And I am grateful for the life I now live. And I will continue to be grateful for whatever comes next, whether this is the second half or the last third, or tomorrow never comes. It IS well with my soul. Happy birthday, sweet girl of mine. I hope your day is filled with people who show you how special and loved you are. Thank you for being the best birthday present I ever received.

Far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul