I looked in the mirror the other day and laughed along with God.

No joke.

I laughed.

Why? Because I have seven kids, that’s why.  And I think it makes God smile.

Why? Because it’s me, that’s why. 

Me.

The woman who has to buy silk plants because I have a startling ability to kill both plants and small animals. (I boiled my fish to death in their aquarium when I was 14.  True story.)

In my defense, the thermostat broke while I was at school. But still. I think I have PTSD from that episode.

God knew all about my anti-nurturing qualities and still, He saw fit to entrust me with seven precious lives.

Seven.

S E V E N beautiful pairs of baby feet.  Made just for me and my husband by the God of the universe.

I think God is smiling at me right this minute, thinking about my dead fish and my silk plants—and those seven precious people who call me … MOM.

You see, God knows me. I’ve learned He knows me better than I know myself.

He knows my name.

I like to picture Him saying it … I listen for it.

And I hear Him—in the stillness that comes with the morning light. I hear Him.  “Heidi.”

Just.Like.That.  Gentle. Patient.

Like a father should be.

Like any good father, He knew I was terrified of motherhood. Terrified that I was destined to repeat a generational sin in my family. Terrified that I was not equipped to take care of a baby.  Terrified that I would mess it up. And even more terrified to admit it.

My Father knew my fears as a young mother-to-be.

And He still knows them. {He’s good like that.}

Sometimes, Father lets me wrestle with a question. Sometimes, He sends an answer.

Rarely early. Never late.

I think He knows when I need an answer and when I can wait a while longer.

In September of 1991, I had a question that couldn’t wait. I needed an answer.

Life hung in the balance.

New life.

He knows my name. He knows my name.

I was a woman who was about to give birth.  My fear of failing bubbled to the surface. My spirit struggled under the weight of  an uncertain future.

Could I do this?  Really?
Would I be an angry mother?
Could I overcome my fear?

Just a few days before our precious first-born entered this world, I broke down. Tears rolled down my face and dropped quietly onto my burgeoning belly. It was time to face my fear.

He knows my name.

As I sat in the living room of a dear woman of God, I confided in her. I unpacked my fears. I told my story.

And God sent me His answer through this precious friend.

Rarely early. Never late.

“I can’t do it!” I wailed. “I don’t know how! I don’t know how not to be angry.”

It was all I had ever known, really. Anger.

He knows my name.

“Heidi, ” Nola said, “Why are you crying? God has made you new.  You are a new creation! You are redeemed! Called by name. Loved. Set apart. You are not bound by your past. You.Are.New.”

He knows my name.

In that moment, I was set free. Free to be the woman God made me to be. Free to be the mother I wanted to be.

That was nearly twenty-two years ago.

Do I still battle with my fears? Yes.

Do I struggle? Fall? Fail?

Yes.

But here’s the thing: I’m learning what it means to be truly free.

Free to be imperfect. Free to ask for help.

Free to mess things up.  To ask for grace —grace to be the woman God sees when He looks at me.

He knows my name.

He knows your name too, precious mom. He knows your fears—He’s seen your failures.

And He loves you.

You can trust Him with your fears and your failures. Lean hard into His arms. He can hold you up.

He knows your name. Can you hear Him saying it?

Look up. Listen.

He knows your name.