She’s an introvert. Not a painful introvert, but also not the fulfillment of the token phrase, “Oh she’s a little shy.”  She recharges her spirit with quiet alone time. A true introvert.

So when she told me that her future husband has eight siblings, I did the math (I’m not good at math but this was important and so I counted up).  If every sibling procures a spouse and the parents gather them all around the table for Christmas morning breakfast, there will be 20 bowing their heads in prayer and diving for the hot cinnamon rolls. Nieces and nephews are being born and so July 4 picnics could sport more than two dozen family members eating burgers and jumping in the pool.  And if anyone brings a friend to join these gatherings, which already happens in this very gracious and welcoming southern family, well, my math begins to break down.  Goodness.  Don’t even get me started on the count of waffles for the New Year’s celebration! Using my fingers AND an abacus just might not be enough!!

But here’s the thing.  She loves it already. She has been part of many family “gatherings” this year and consistently expresses her complete joy and happiness at being included in this bunch of loving people. Sure, she has taken a walk around the farm alone, but it has been a quick one to calm her spirit.  Rejoining the family, that big group, gives her great joy. It’s her family too now.

I would never have put her in a crowd to make her smile, but I hear her happiness when she talks about being with his family.  It is scratching an itch I didn’t know she had.  Filling a void I didn’t notice was part of her person.

God’s got this.  He, not me, is planning her path and placing her where she can most glorify Him.

And so my lesson in this is being careful to not hold on to my well crafted picture of my daughter’s future. I say to myself. “Get out of the way, mum.  Your days of picking out her clothes are long over.  God is choosing her outfits now and this family fits her perfectly.”

Praise Jesus. I’m just the mother.  God is her Father.