Today I folded some of last week's laundry particularly the underwear load. I hate folding the underwear load, matching socks and folding garments better suited to wadding. I procrastinate, but the pile had taken up residence on my freezer and I figured the bottom layers were pretty close to molding. (Clothing stored on the top of a deep freezer cause the deep freeze to condense water under the clothes. I did not know this till I started using the deep freezer to store clothes I didn't want to fold.)
So I folded and I folded and in my folding, I found some things quite disturbing--little girl panties. Garments made especially for little girl bellies and bottoms. Decorated in pastels with pictures of Tinker Bell, or flowers, or smiling animals on them. All sorts of little underwear so small as to be unfold-able littered my pile of laundry. Signifying only one thing. Abigail is not my baby anymore.
While not wholly potty trained, we are at the going into public with panties stage. She has earned "Doc" who hung on the wall for weeks waiting for this moment though I balk at giving the gift. Playing with "Doc," the old race car from Cars, reminds me that she is growing. That the years I have been given with her have been shortened. Gone are diaper changes and bottles. Gone are the years of complete dependence.
And isn't that what I want. Abigail to daily grow into the person God intends, graduating moment by moment from dependence on her parents to dependence on her God. With tears my heart cries Yes. And I pray that I may keep those tears of mourning the babyhood lost hidden in the pile of little girl panties and rejoice over the little girl triumphs of faith and growing.