In the interest of keeping it real for the interlings, I’d like to tell you that I’ve spent most of the past few evenings crying.  I’ve cried happy tears, like the ones earlier today when I watched one of my former college roommates marry the love of her life.  I’ve also cried sad tears, like the ones from a few nights ago when someone wounded my heart without realizing how badly he had hurt me.

But tonight, I want to cry different tears.  I want to cry desperate tears.

You see, there’s more to the MacKenzie story than I’ve told you this week.  It is true that MacKenzie is from my home church; I met her there a few years ago.  The first time I laid eyes on her, she walked directly across the sanctuary and climbed onto my lap without ever breaking eye contact.  She didn’t know my name, didn’t even know who I was and yet she was asleep in my arms within minutes. 

MacKenzie is being raised solely by her father.

And so, I am her Llama Mama.  I am the one who brushed her teeth this morning and the one who tucked her into bed last night.  I am, for the first time in my life, the giver of Goldfish crackers. 

But later this morning, I will take her back and leave her with her father until the next time we have a ‘girls only weekend.’  I already know that I will weep.

And, if you want to know the awful truth, I’m crying so hard right now that I can hardly type.  The desperate tears have already arrived and I think they’re here to stay for a few hours.

Because this is what He asked us to do — to love our God and to love others.  What He sacrificed for me is unspeakable, even unimaginable.  When I celebrate what today means, I want to respond first in gratitude but next in action.

And so, you and I are left to respond to His ultimate sacrifice in the small ways we know how.

We pick her up and take her to the zoo because she’s never seen the animals before.  We hold her hand when crossing the parking lot and keep holding it when we’re safely on the other side.  We brush her hair and tell her that it is just lovely. 

We wait until the bride walks down the aisle and then whisper to her that she will be the most beautiful bride in the world one day.  We order chocolate milk for her because it is a special ‘girls only’ day.  We buckle her into her car seat and kiss her forehead before shutting the door.

We answer her questions, all 4,216 of them.  We watch Playhouse Disney and have intense discussions about High School Musical.  We tell stories about Jesus when we’re in the car instead of answering the cell phone.

We take hundreds of pictures so that one day, she will know that someone wanted to remember her at this age.  That someone cared enough to fix her hair and iron her prettiest dress.  That someone set her atop the fence all so we could get the perfect picture.

Because she is important to Him, she has become important to me. 

And that, on this morning that shines brighter than any other morning, is my offering to You.  It is the holding of the girl who, when I tucked her into bed last night, asked me if I could be her mother even though I have chocolate hair and she has vanilla hair.  It is the tears I waited to cry until she had closed her eyes. 

It is giving up my vacation days and my free time and even a little bit of my heart all for a girl who will hopefully one day look at me and see You instead.

I have her, but you have your own MacKenzie in your life.  Let’s demonstrate the love that we so freely celebrate this morning.  And let’s start with those closest to us.