from my kitchen sink i hold her. hands fixed under her arms for fear she will slip. she laughs. i laugh and i hear the boys laughing in the other room. she is so tiny. so slim. so absorbed in the newest of her porcelain crib. everything to her is so big yet, she can hardly see over the side of the sink. my little she is small. so small in such a big world. and i look around at the world set on display just outside my window and i wonder at the bigness of it all. how does such a big God see me, one so small in a sea of so many. and my fingers run along side the small of her back down to her toes, i squeeze them, each one. every delicate detail of her delights me. i am drawn to her and i take her in deeply. and there, at my sink, i realize that my big God delights in the little. in all of me, He finds delight.