As I held Rosé in my arms, studying her sleeping face, I was seized with reverence for her. No matter how crystalline her purity may be, I am incapable of penetrating to her very core. Even now, when she is most dependent on me, she is her own person, perfectly complete with or without me. And whether or not she is aware, I am not enough for her. Like me, like her earthly father, she too must make her own journey to her heavenly Father. She is my daughter, but also my sister, born into this world only to return to the place from which we came.
My heart is tempted to ache for Rosé, knowing the solo journey that awaits her budding consciousness. Of course, I will ever hold out my hand for her to grasp, but ultimately, I know she must learn to reach inward, rather than outward. Her comfort does not lie with me, but with Him. In the deepest place of her self, she must discover the image of her Creator and thus know herself as she truly is.
Yes, as I held my baby, I glimpsed the future, in which her path will cleave from my path, just as I too once cleaved from my mother and father. Today, she is my little wet chick, blinking up at me from the fragments of a sea-blue eggshell, safe in the arc of my wing. Tomorrow, she will ruffle her feathers and leap from the nest. Oh, but today, today, she is mine to cherish and protect as best I am able, for indeed she is more precious than I can fathom. Only our Father knows, and because of this sacred secret, I cradle her in awe.