Page 6 of Grace Notes
She watches me in the mirror, her eyes tracking my movements, and while she watches me, I watch her. She’s quiet tonight. Even at dinner, she didn’t have much to say, which isn’t like her. Her little lip slips between her teeth as she chews on it, and worry knots in my stomach.
“Avery,” I say, putting the brush back on the counter. She looks at me in the mirror, finding my eyes, “you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Is something bothering you, baby?”
“Is Papaw Kip sick?”
Fear and heartbreak mar her face.
My heart falls to my toes. Brooks and I have known about Kip for a couple of weeks, but we don’t have definitive answers yet. We didn’t want to tell Avery until we knew what this was, but I guess our little girl is more observant than we give her credit for.
Spinning her so she’s facing me, I gather her in my arms. “Why do you ask that?”
Her lower lip trembles, tears filling her eyes.
“Daddy and Uncle Grayson were talking at the cookout.”
Guilt settles like a weight in my stomach. That was almost a week ago. Has she been worried about this since then? How didn’t I notice that?
I’ve been busy with finals this week at school, but that’s no excuse. Avery comes first—always—and yet, I let her down here. I failed to notice her struggling.
It’s like my worst fear come true.
When I decided to go back to school—to find my place outside of being a mom and wife—I promised myself that I would not drop the ball at home, and the first time I did, I would give it up.
And now, between the vow renewal, finals, and everyday life, I’m sinking a little. I don’t want my family to sink with me, even if it means giving something up.
“Let’s get some pajamas on you, and then we will talk,” I say, picking her up and carrying her to her room.
Brooks is working late tonight. He said he wouldn’t be late for dinner, but he didn’t mention missing our bedtime routine too. Remnants of old anger pierce my heart. How many important conversations have I had with Avery on my own? Didn’t we promise to do better?
But he has been.
My conscience prickles at the thought because I know it’s true, but I hold onto my annoyance like a warm blanket, not ready to let it go yet—especially not in the face of our daughter’s fear.
I walk Avery to her room across the hall and get her dressed. Once she’s comfy, I climb into bed with her, and we snuggle under the covers.
My hand finds her hair, and as I run my fingers through it, I say, “We don’t know if Papaw Kip is sick. He’s been going to the doctors to find out.”
Tears slip down her cheek, and I catch them with my thumb. “Is he going to die like Uncle Grayson’s friend?”
My heart aches for the innocence of my little girl.
“Only God knows that, baby.” As much as the truth kills me, I decided long ago that I wouldn’t lie to her.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, Bug?”
“I thought God was supposed to answer our prayers if we prayed. But Uncle Grayson said that Aunt Georgia prayed for her friend, and he still died.”
Her words hit me in the sternum, making it hard to breathe. I am wholly unequipped for this conversation. Since Avery was born, I worried about how I would lead her to God—how I would handle her questions—but I never thought they would start so young.
My biggest fear in life is saying the wrong thing when it comes to her faith.
“We are supposed to pray, but that doesn’t mean we always get what we want, Avery. It’s like when you ask me and Daddy for something—you know you’re supposed to ask nicely—but just because you ask nicely doesn’t mean we will always say yes. And that’s because, as grown-ups, we can see things youcan’t sometimes. It’s the same with God. Sometimes, he doesn’t answer our prayers because he can see things that we can’t. He has a plan for our lives, but that doesn’t always mean it’s the plan we want.”
