Through a Child’s Eyes

There is something marvelous about seeing the world through a child’s eyes.

This morning, as I went in to wake Sydney up, she had the biggest smile on her face. I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, and for a moment, every other thought escaped my mind. The worries, the responsibilities, the exhaustion, the memories of everything we had walked through, all of it seemed to fade into the background. All I could do was smile back at her.

Then I picked her up.

As I held her close, I began to realize something deeper was happening in that moment. She was not only happy to see me. She trusted me. Completely. She was not worried about what she would eat, where she would sleep, who would take care of her, or what the day would hold. She simply rested in my arms, trusting that I would care for her.

She cast all of her cares on me without even knowing that is what she was doing.

And as I held her, I began to wonder how much better our lives would be if we did the same thing with our Heavenly Father.

How different would our hearts be if we trusted God the way a child trusts a loving parent? How much more peace would we have if we stopped trying to carry everything ourselves? How much lighter would our burdens feel if we truly believed that our Father is good, that He is near, and that He can be trusted with every detail of our lives?

1 Peter 5:7 says, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

That verse has become more than a nice thought to me. It has become something I have had to live. There were moments during our NICU journey when the weight was too heavy for me to carry. There were moments when I did not have enough strength, enough understanding, enough control, or enough answers. I had to learn, sometimes through tears, that God never asked me to carry what only He was strong enough to hold.

Because of our history with the NICU, I feel a tremendous bond with my little angel. Sydney is more than I could have ever hoped for. She is not just my daughter. She is a living reminder of God’s mercy, faithfulness, and power. When I look at her, I see answered prayer. I see grace. I see the goodness of God wrapped in a tiny little girl with bright eyes and a smile that can melt my heart in seconds.

God knew exactly what my heart longed for, and He blessed me with a miracle that brings me more joy than I can explain.

During that painful chapter of our lives, God showed up in a big way. He provided in ways I could not provide. He strengthened me when my own strength was gone. He interceded for me when I did not know what to pray. He carried me when I could not carry myself. He reminded me that I may be Sydney’s earthly father, but He is her Heavenly Father, and He loves her even more than I do.

That truth humbles me.

As someone who naturally wants to fix things, the NICU was one of the hardest places I have ever had to stand. I could not fix her breathing. I could not fix the test results. I could not make the doctors give us the answer we wanted. I could not speed up the process. I could not take her place. I could not control the outcome.

All I could do was pray, show up, love her, advocate for her, and trust God.

And honestly, that was hard.

Every time the doctors told us something else was wrong, I had to trust God again. Every time they told us we would have to stay longer, I had to surrender again. Every time we had to sign another consent form for more testing, I had to lay my fear at His feet again. Every setback became another invitation to trust. Every delay became another opportunity to choose faith over fear.

The choice was mine.

I could fight the battle alone, or I could allow God to reach into my life and carry what I was never meant to carry by myself.

That is a choice every one of us has to make at some point. We can grip our problems tightly, trying to control every detail, or we can place them in the hands of the One who already sees the beginning, the middle, and the end. When we choose to give our situation to Him and trust Him alone, there is no limit to what He can do in us and through us.

But there is another part we cannot forget.

When God brings us through, we must give Him the praise and glory. We must tell what He has done. We must share the ways He provided, strengthened, healed, carried, and sustained us. It does not matter as much when we share it as it does that we share it. Too many of us receive the blessing, survive the storm, walk out of the valley, and then forget to tell the story.

But our testimony matters.

Recording what God has done is a powerful way to look back and remember where He brought us from. It becomes a record of His goodness. It becomes evidence of His faithfulness. It becomes a reminder for the days when fear tries to rise again. But it is not only for us. Our testimony can also become hope for someone else.

Someone else may be walking into a hospital room.

Someone else may be waiting on a report.

Someone else may be facing a trial they never saw coming.

Someone else may be wondering if God still hears them.

And when we tell our story, we remind them that He does.

We may never know exactly what someone else is walking through, but we can still encourage them. We can still listen. We can still pray. We can still be an extension of God’s loving arms. Sometimes the greatest ministry comes not from having all the answers, but from standing beside someone and saying, “I know this is hard, but you are not alone. God is still faithful.”

That is what our journey has taught me.

When we give our problems to God and help others do the same, we can walk through fiery trials and come out without even smelling like smoke. The fire may be real, but it does not have to destroy us. The pain may be real, but it does not have to define us. The trial may be real, but it does not get to write the ending when God is the Author of our story.

Today, I praise God for what He has brought our family through.

I praise Him for every prayer He answered.

I praise Him for every tear He caught.

I praise Him for every moment He gave us strength.

I praise Him for every nurse, doctor, friend, family member, and prayer warrior He placed along the way.

I praise Him for bringing Sydney home.

And when I look back and only see one set of footprints in the sand, I know it is because God was carrying me. There were moments I did not have the strength to keep walking, but somehow, I kept moving forward. That was not because I was strong. It was because He was faithful.

God heard my cries.

Sydney is living proof that God answers prayers.

And as I hold her, as I see her smile, as I watch her trust me with complete confidence, I am reminded that this is how I want to live before my Heavenly Father. I want to trust Him with that kind of childlike faith. I want to rest in His arms. I want to believe that He is caring for me, even when I do not understand everything happening around me.

Matthew 18:3 says, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

I understand that more now. Children know how to trust. They know how to receive love. They know how to rest in arms stronger than their own.

That is what Sydney taught me this morning.

And it truly humbles me to know that the love I have for her, as deep and fierce and overwhelming as it is, is only a small fraction of the love her Heavenly Father has for her.

He loved her before I ever held her.

He knew her before I ever saw her face.

He heard her before I ever heard her cry.

He formed her, carried her, protected her, and brought her through.

And the same God who loves Sydney that much loves me too.

That is the kind of love I want to trust.

That is the kind of Father I want to run to.

That is the kind of grace I want to live in every day.