The butterfly cake

The butterfly cake

Do you ever feel like you are experiencing something in your life for the sake of someone else? For you to feel what they are feeling for one reason, to be relatable.

I do.

Yesterday I woke up with a weight on my chest. Physically I felt heavier . Burdened. I went about my day and prayed aloud while changing diapers, making lunch and doing my usual housework. My kids are used to this, and by now they pray with me.

” Talking to Jesus Mom?”

” Yes, wanna talk to him with me?”

I had great plans to make a Hello kitty cake for Rhemas birthday party that night. I had it all in my head how it was going to look and taste, how her precious face would light up as she blew out her candles. I wanted the cake to be as special as she is. Oh, she’s so special.

I began to have a series of three panic attacks. The first one I was able to breathe through and pray aloud. All I could get out of my mouth was the most powerful word of all.


As my physical body was experiencing trauma and fear, my mind wasn’t there. I was seated with him. I was on his lap . I had peace and joy. It was mine for the taking. Because I’m his daughter. I didn’t have to agree with what was going on. What was trying to take over my body. So I chose peace.

When you stop paying attention to a child that is screaming and crying for his 5th cookie of the night, won’t he stop? Doesn’t he eventually understand that his fit is unnoticed and not working? That is what I chose to do with satan.

I refused to give him my attention. And he stopped. I was able to breathe and move on.

All of this choosing peace was kind of exhausting. It wasn’t easy and it tired me. I can’t wait for the point in my life that it is easy for me to choose peace. Where I do it without even consciously deciding to. Instead I just do.

By the time I was physically stable to make a cake there wasn’t time. I cried a little and prayed for direction. Rhema had to have a cake. She deserved a cake and I wanted her to feel loved.

I made arrangements to just take Rhema out to pick out her cake. At first I put on a happy face . I chose to smile and enjoy myself, but in the end Rhema ended up blessing me. I didn’t have to save face. I had such joy being with my daughter.

We went to a grocery store with a bakery near our home. I prayed on the way that Rhema would find something that she loved. Something that showed her how special she was to us. That she would not be affected or even suspect I had had a rough day.

We round the corner to look at the cake selection and she screams for joy.

” a butterfly cake Momma! Like my room! Oh I want that one! I love it!”

I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen her light up like that. Her face was enough . Those eyes glistened and her sweet cheeks chubbed up. She is the tiniest thing, but those cheeks . Oh I could kiss them all day.

I asked the baker if she could write happy birthday Rhema on it. Rhema chose pink, with no surprise . Pink is her one and only favorite color.

I put the cake in the cart with her tiny squeals for joy. Oh momma it’s beautiful. Oh momma I love it. Thank you thank you. Over and over.

” Can you move it over here so I can see it better? I want to look at it.”

I was in tears on aisle 2 looking for paper plates. Her gratuity for something as small as a $15 cake had me almost to my knees. How was I given this precious girl?

She didn’t care I didn’t wake up at 6 am to plan her party. She didn’t care I didn’t have the strength to clean the baseboards in the bathroom before her party. She didn’t care about any of it. She was having quality time with just her Momma picking out her favorite ice cream. She’s three. She doesn’t have expectations of me that I have for myself.

And I set the bar high. Even when I shouldn’t.

She was in my presence. Alone. She could speak her mind without a sibling shutting her down, or taking her favorite toy. I was all hers and she was happy.

What was one of my hardest days was redeemed by my own child.

I took her to get balloons next. She couldn’t decide on just one theme , so I let her chose several. We had a Dora, Hello kitty, Princess , butterfly party. All of her favorites. She smiled and laughed and was completely content .

Tonight as I tucked her in I thanked my Jesus for giving her to us to love. Everyday she challenges me to love him more. She gives me perspective that I didn’t previously have. She is witty and hilarious. She is kind and gentle. I don’t deserve her.

I couldn’t stop watching her sleep. I kept thinking about the day she was born. Her labor was beautiful and actually pretty blissful. I had peace and I knew all of my heart desires would be fulfilled. I was having the girl, my Rhema my heart had longed for.

I asked to see her coming into this world . I had a mirror placed perfectly so I could see her crown. I knew she would have dark hair, as I had a dream where The Lord showed her to me.

After my first push I saw her dark head of hair and cried out

” I KNEW her hair was dark! Where did she get that!?”

I laughed and laughed and pushed once more. She came after two pushes and landed right on my chest.

6 pounds and 13 ounces of pure joy . I sobbed and thanked Jesus aloud. I kissed my husband and felt fulfilled. She’s mine. I’ve waited for you. He told me you would come. He promised me you would be mine to love.

She was a promise.

During a conference at our church a man was speaking on a Rhema word. I had never heard that word used before in all my charismatic days. It stuck out to me Iike a song I couldn’t get out of my head. I repeated it over and over and was perplexed by the beauty of the sound.

Rhema. Rhema.

The Lord begin to tell me that I would have a daughter. That her name was to be Rhema and she would proclaim his word. From the day I found out I was pregnant with her I knew. I knew she wasn’t truly ours .

She was his.

He had her heart. He has a way with that girl I’ve never seen before. She brings such joy to our home I’ve never experienced. Her actions daily bring me to repentance and point my face towards his.

What my child needed that day was my attention. She needed me.

Just me. No party favors . No money or fancy decorations. All it took was her favorite ice cream and balloons. I took simple love.

Isn’t Jesus pleased when we simply love him? When we soak in his presence. And enjoy his company.

Rhema was.

She chose the very thing that brought me such joy during my pregnancy with her. Butterflies.

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