(On the occasion of Darling Girl’s fifth birthday. Every night she insists I sing the Peter Paul & Mary version of Hush-A-Bye. She can’t go to sleep without it.)
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep you little baby.
When you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses.
Dapples and greys, pintos and bays, all the pretty little horses.
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep you little baby.
Sometimes, when you wake you will face a world that feels uncertain, a world that will tell you from an early age that straw is in fact treasure, and fleeting things are the ones with value, the ones we should chase after regardless of life and limb.
But. When you wake, I am here to tell you that treasure is not shiny bits of fleeting praise and cheap baubles the world bestows, but instead, eternal riches hosted in heaven. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep you little baby.
When you wake you will be in a world that increasingly requires your voice and your courage. The kind of brave that isn’t just scaling the highest thing around, or conquering swimming at four, or catching creepy crawlers, or bossing the heck out of your horse.
The kind of brave that means standing up to someone who isn’t being kind. When brave is a lone, loud voice of peace in an increasingly angry and divided world.
Baby girl, one day when you wake, I won’t be able to protect you from scraped knees, wobbly ledges, and friends who hurt your feelings. And on down the road, I can’t stop the words of the world saying you aren’t good enough. Or skinny enough. Or pretty enough.
Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby cryin, “mama”;
Birds and the butterflies flutter round his eyes,
Poor little baby cryin’ “mama”.
And whether I am here or not, you need to know that being brave isn’t the same as not being afraid. That courage is not the absence of fear but rather our actions in the face of it, and we have a savior who tasted death so we could live in freedom.
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep you little baby.
When you wake you shall have all the pretty little horses.
Dapples and greys, pintos and bays, all the pretty little horses.
Happy Birthday my darling girl. Above all, I pray that when you wake, you will be rooted and grounded in love, comprehending with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth of the love Christ has for you.
~Love Mom.