On Her Birthday, I Broke the Fear

Today is Sarai’s sixth birthday.

Six.😳🙏🫣🤔- like how did we get here?

And this morning, before the sun rose, before little feet hit the floor, before questions and giggles filled the house…

I woke up in fear.

Not loud fear.

Not dramatic fear.

The quiet kind.

The intrusive thought kind.

The kind that grips your chest before you can even name it.

So I did what mothers who know God do.

I prayed.

Not casual prayer.

The kind that reaches heaven.

The kind that says, “Lord, this child belongs to You.”

A Few Years Ago

One the day she turned four, I had a different fear.

I feared I wouldn’t live to see her grow up.

There were moments — heavy ones — when I wondered,

“Will I see six?”

“Will I see ten?”

“Will I hear her testify about Jesus as a young woman?”

That fear was real.

But here we are.

Two years later.

She is six.

Alive and well.

Growing. Learning. Laughing.

And this morning, I stood over her bed and watched her sleep.

And I prayed over her.

Because that’s what gratitude does.

It kneels.

The Question That Slipped Into My Spirit

As I prayed, another thought surfaced — one I know other parents wrestle with but rarely admit:

Do my imperfections affect my child?

Not scandal.

Not some dark history.

Just the reality that none of us enter motherhood spotless.

Have my fears, my shortcomings, my humanity somehow opened doors I cannot see?

Scripture says in Exodus 20:5 that iniquity can visit generations.

But Scripture also anchors us in Ezekiel 18:20:

“The son shall not bear the guilt of the father.”

Consequences may ripple.

Habits can be learned.

But guilt does not transfer.

Condemnation does not pass down.

The Cross Is a Bloodline Interruption

Then I was reminded of 2 Corinthians 5:17:

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.”

If I am new, then what flows from me is not my yesterday —it is His grace.

The cross doesn’t just forgive sin.

It interrupts fear.

It interrupts cycles.

It interrupts lies.

And this morning I realized —

What flows to my daughter is not her parents imperfection.

What flows to her is my repentance.

My obedience.

My early-morning prayers.

My surrender.

Our Celebration Looks Different

Balloons, cake, themed party aren’t the focus of the day. That’s not how our family marks the day.

But don’t mistake that for a lack of joy.

Today, we celebrate life.

We celebrate preservation.

We celebrate mercy.

We celebrate another year that God has sustained her — daddy, and me.

So on Sabbath when she places her gift in the offertory plate, I want her to see the value of a new year in giving.

A small hand.

A grateful heart.

Her “thank You” to Jesus for breath.

And honestly?

That kind of celebration reaches heaven.

Birthdays have a way of making you reflective.

Reflective can make you vulnerable.

And vulnerable is where fear tries to preach.

But 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds us:

“God has not given us a spirit of fear…”

So I will not let fear speak over my child.

I will let faith speak.

Two years ago, I feared I wouldn’t see her grow.

Today, I am watching her sleep.

Praying over her.

Declaring that whatever was fragile in me becomes strength in her.

Not because I am perfect.

But because I am surrendered.

And surrendered mothers shift generations.

Today she turns six.

And instead of rehearsing fear,

I rehearse gratitude.

Because what God has preserved, no whispered thought can undo.

And what God has covered, no past imperfection can curse.

Help me wish a Happy life to my sweet girl.

Happy birthday pumpkin;

You are not walking under my fear.

You are walking under my prayers.