A Song of Avery

Peace has a sound to it.

A softness.

A settling.

A holy hush that slips in when the world is loud

but your spirit chooses a different song.

This week, that song has a name: Avery.

My granddaughter walks through life with a light I can’t always explain.

Almost eight years on this earth,

with challenges that would make grown women crumble,

and still she smiles wide, loves freely,

and trusts boldly…

as if the world is more kind than cruel.

As if people are more good than broken.

As if love is worth giving—every time.

And I’ll be honest…

that kind of openness terrifies me.

Because I know the stories.

I know the statistics.

I know the shadows that chase children who shine too bright.

But then Psalm 23 rises in my spirit—

a familiar whisper that steadies my shaking heart:

“Goodness and mercy are following her.”

“She will fear no evil… for He is with her.”

I look at Avery…

and I see a child who actually believes that.

Her glass doesn’t hold fullness—

it overflows.

Every day is the best day of her life.

Every friend is her very best friend.

Goodness is around the corner.

Mercy is right behind her.

Hope is her native language.

But she wasn’t always this way.

There was a time when

sadness lived under her eyelashes.

Tears waited at the edge of every moment.

Joy was fragile.

Confidence was thin.

Nothing ever quite reached the “good enough” mark.

And then—a quiet miracle:

Avery changed her view.

Not her life.

Not her circumstances.

Her perspective.

Somewhere between karate classes and crayons,

baking lessons and bedtime prayers,

structure and love,

tears and “try again,”

she learned to look for what is good…

and found God waiting there.

Today she is blossoming—

Honor roll child.

Karate kid.

Swimmer.

Baker.

Sewing student.

Artist whose pictures double as encouragement notes

because lifting others lifts her too.

After overhearing her doctor’s concern,

she came to me—

and asked me—

to help her live a healthy, strong life.

Four months later, she is transforming.

Her body.

Her habits.

Her emotions.

Her confidence.

Her peace.

Last week at dinner, she looked up and said,

“I’m happy with my life just the way it is.”

This—

this right here—

is the peace Advent whispers about.

Not the peace that comes from perfect days

or painless stories,

but the peace that comes

when a child decides to see her life through a different lens…

and everything shifts.

Avery found her peace by changing her perspective.

And now I’m praying for the courage

to do the same.

Lord, give me Avery’s eyes—

eyes that expect goodness,

rest in mercy,

and trust that even in the darkest valleys,

I am never walking alone.

What an extraordinary little girl to lead me to the manger again this year…

teaching me that peace doesn’t wait for life to calm down.

Peace arrives the moment our vision clears.

#ReflectionsofAPrayingMother