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She handed it to me
then stood
shyly;
her face,
alight with pride,
searched mine to see
if I'd
be pleased or
if I would
note the flaws
which, even with my help,
were there
(obvious but understood)
because her heart was in the work
that she had done
(which my heart took);
she'd given me
the very best she could.

Lord-
here is my daughter.

-Adapted from the original by Ruth Bell Graham

Ruth Bell Graham wrote this poem about her son, but I changed it to work for my daughter Norah. I like the last line the best: "Lord- here is my daughter" as if Ruth was thinking of presenting her son to God.

If we moms actually were to present our children to our Father in heaven like our kids bring their works of art to us, I believe we'd stand before Him like our kids stand in front of us, shy and unsure, but full of pride at the same time. Our hearts are in the work we do with our family and we know they aren't perfect, even when we do our very best. I know God would see the flaws that I may not see, but I hope He'd give me his approval anyway.

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