There are days when daughter is still too much for her to bear. She wraps herself in orphan and chooses the pattern woven through sticks and stones and words that hurt.
Coming home after adventuring through the woods with her older brother, she laughed and talked and skipped this way and that.
The brother-sister pair carried walking sticks found as they wandered through the woods searching for late summer berries.
Walking down the dirt road toward home, they kicked rocks and twirled their staffs. And as they twirled, his stick caught her in the arm. He felt the thud of wood hitting flesh. It hurt. And he knew it.
“Katya, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
But the garment orphan wrapped her in an instant covering up sister, covering up daughter. She ran. Before he could see her tears, she ran.
I didn’t even hear her come in the house. She was so quiet.
But I heard Cameron. His feelings were hurt, and he was angry that she’d run off. “I didn’t mean to,” he said to me.
“I know. I believe you.”
No amount of coaxing could get her to come out, climb in my lap, and show me where it hurt. Orphan covered her and kept her from the love and care offered by her brother, her mother.
Like Katya, the pull of our old ways, our orphan ways draws us like a magnet. The Father’s love is too great for us. The care of Christ, the comfort of the Spirit seems too much. We run. Can you identify?
This week at the Riverside, we slipped on our adoption, a garment of valor and considered what it means to be a daughter of the King, to live a life worthy of the gospel of Christ.