A poem to my daughter on her 17-month birthday (by Cameron)

As I sit and stare into dancing eyes

Taking in the grandeur of the skies,

Tracing the path of a ladybug,

Pressed against Elmo nice and snug,

I think, “Lord, I do not deserve her.”

Tiny hands splashing wild and strong,

Bath water glistens clear and long.

Laughing and smiling incessantly,

She stares into my soul deeply.

And I think, “Lord, I do not deserve her.”

We named you Sara, sweet princess.

Beautiful. Biblical. We liked it best.

We named you Grace to remind us all

The gift of Life we didn’t earn at all.

And I think, “Lord, I do not deserve it.”

O Sara Grace, you’ll never know

The number of times I’ve prayed your soul

Would be saved by the God of grace.

I pray you too will one day see his face

And think, “Lord, I do not deserve you.”

Who knows what adventures will await

In the morning when you wake?

But peaking my head through your door

Just like I did the night before,

I know I’ll think, “Lord, I don’t deserve her.”