I Trust God with my Daughter’s Life-- AS LONG As....

 

It was just me.

For the past twenty-six years, it has just been me. What do I have to do today? 

What am I worried about? What are my plans? Why is this situation happening? Why isn’t this 

other thing happening? Whatever shall I wear today?!

 

And in all these years of being me, the emotional, the physical, and the spiritual struggles 

involved in all the “me-ness,” I learned to (mostly) trust God with it. I’d seen him drag me 

through things I thought I could not bear. I’d heard his voice in dark moments. I went through 

things that scared me, because he asked me to, and he had never failed me. He provided. He 

comforted. He guided. Perhaps my greatest security, He’d whisper to my soul again and again 

that, “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

 

But now, for the past seven months, there is not just me. Now there is her too. And she has 

usurped much of my me thoughts to she thoughts. Is she hungry? Is she okay over there? 

C’MON! Can she PLEASE just wait thirty more seconds while I finish brushing my teeth!? 

Whatever shall she wear today?! 

 

My beloved little she is not a big fan of sleeping at night and ritually wakes up around 10:30 to 

nurse. While the 3:30 a.m. wakeup is routine torture, I don’t mind the 10:30 one bit. Nursing 

drowsily, she falls in and out of sleep, resting her chubby, dimpled hand on me. Then when 

she’s done she falls immediately asleep in my arms, and I just get to hold her and rock her 

slowly. Her soft, wrist-less arm curls up by her face and she feels warm and perfect in my arms. 

 

I’ve tried to make a habit of praying for her during this time. 

 

It is during this time of peace, that my mind is all at once assaulted. Complete and total panic 

threatens to take over. My prayers turn into me frantically searching through mental files of 

anything bad that can happen to a human and pleading for her protection, and although her 

weight rests comfortably, she becomes the heaviest thing I’ve ever had in my arms. 

But hey, listen, I definitely want God’s will for her life. I want it all for her. I want her to see the 

world, to cultivate deep, meaningful relationships. I want her to experience true love. I want 

sandy toes and peach pies and princess crowns and breathtaking sunrises and silly dances and 

adventure. 

 

I want all the beauty and abundant life God has for her—just so long as she never gets hurt.

Well…not hurt her that badly, I suppose. For instance:

-I’m okay with her getting her heartbroken AS LONG AS the guy is really a pretty good guy who 

treats her well, and she learns an important lesson from it.

-I’m okay with her going to the mission field AS LONG AS it’s nowhere that dangerous or for that 

-I’m okay with the fact that she’ll get sick or injured AS LONG AS it’s nothing long term or 

involves a hospital visit. 

-I’m okay with her going through a rebellious phase, AS LONG AS it doesn’t involve drugs, 

alcohol, or sex. I’m thinking some light swearing (hell, damn, etc.)

I mean, I think I’m being pretty reasonable here, God. 

What I’m really doing, however, is telling her Creator that I have a better plan for her life than 

He does.

What I am really doing is telling Him that I can do it better. I offer her up to omnipotent hands, only to pull her back down into feeble arms. God asks for my surrender, and 

I bargain instead. 

After a life time of taking steps toward trusting God with me, my faith is limited when it comes 

to my little “she.”

 

There is no grand revelation here. I am standing in the middle of this war for complete trust. All 

I know is that every day that I am Lucy’s mom is a day that I must choose to surrender her to 

her Creator. I know that I must acknowledge that although I will do everything I can to protect 

her and care for her, she will be a sinful person interacting with a fallen world.

 

Maybe, for now, when I rock her in my arms tonight I can turn my fretful pleading into a faithful 

prayer… 

 

Holy Father,

Thank you for entrusting me with this most precious gift. I know that your plans for her include 

an abundant life. Show her how to find purpose in any suffering you allow her to experience. 

Please show me and her dad how to point her towards You. Fill our empty hands with tools of 

discipleship for her. Help her to come to know You deeply, and to know that wherever she walks 

with you, she’ll be safe. Lord, help me to understand that she was never really mine to begin 

with; she has always been Yours. You love her more than I ever could. Your plans for her surpass 

would I could dream up. Show her how to live a big, bold life for You.



Written by: Alyssa Nitz. (Mom Squad Member at The Mother's Nest)