A Child of His Own


My husband loves an immaculate house.

Not so, his wife.


I am happy to sit amongst a pile of laundry waiting to be folded and read to a child, or to myself, to visit with a friend, and, perhaps most a of all, to write.

But because I love my dear husband, I have learned to make some progress in the area of intentionally managing my home.


Eliza too has identified herself in our family as a neat nick so much like her daddy. She keeps track of the clothes, is always willing to help me fold, is constantly cleaning the kitchen. If I get up to tidy any room at all, Eliza runs to my rescue, shouting, “‘Me! Me, mommy! I do it”


At first, I felt badly allowing her to help me so much more than the other children are expected to, but I found that she was genuinely disappointed if I told her no and that she had done enough. I started to realize that Eliza was carving out her place in our family, identifying her strengths and eager to be allowed to share them with us.

In time, I have grown to depend on Eliza’s eager energetic willingness to help me. I have grown accustomed to her ready, willing, helpful spirit.


Time has woven us together as we have learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Last night, Mark was cleaning up the kitchen, and Eliza was right beside him, unloading the dishwasher. Mark smiled and said, “You can tell she’s my child.”

Eliza grinned because of the tone of his voice, more than because she understood his words.


I smiled tenderly and thought about what an amazing God we have to carefully have placed Eliza in our family.

This morning, Eliza asked me with wide eyes, “Mommy, what does child mean?”

I told her it meant a kid, a young person, a little girl or boy, a daughter or a son.

Her eyes filled with joy and a deep happiness spread across her face. “I’m Daddy’s child.” She said with the sudden recognition of the words.

“I love that, Mommy! I love Daddy’s child.” She exclaimed with an exuberance that overflowed and stemmed from deep within her. She reached up and hugged me. “I love you mommy!”


The days since we brought Eliza home have often been filled with questions and struggles as we have tried to understand this child who fought mightily to adjust to her new family. Yet we are now well into our second year with Eliza. She has carved out a very special place within our lives.

She belongs. She is loved. She is one of our very own.

And we are the ones who are blessed.


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