“For you make me glad at your deeds, Lord, I sing for joy at what your hands have done.”

Psalm 92:4

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, we welcomed Anna Jean into our family.

Our boys are over the moon. Daniel (6) let out a whoop and said “I KNEW IT!” Peter (2) patted his baby sister’s head on the phone screen over FaceTime. Not long ago he was forcefully shoving his infant cousins out of Rachel’s arms in a fit of jealousy. Apparently there’s been a shift in thinking on his part.

Unfortunately the boys haven’t been able to meet Anna yet due to hospital policies relating to the pandemic. It’s a bummer, and we’re missing them, but in some ways it has been nice to sit in the maternity ward and selfishly enjoy our new daughter. I’ve been leaving twice per day to milk the goats (homesteaders don’t have days off), but that’s hardly been a blip on the radar as we get to know her. I’ve been thinking quite a bit these last few days of the number of times Christ drew away into the silence to spend time with the Father, and of the Hymn saying “I will come to you in the silence.” Somehow, I think it will be important to carve out more time for silence in our lives. I don’t know how with a newborn, boys crashing, goats maaing, chickens clucking, washing machine, dryer and dishwasher all whirring, timers dinging and overall pandemonium ensuing, but somehow I think it ought be more of a priority than we’ve made it.

It’s been strange using the word daughter. After having four sons this has been very familiar yet so foreign all at once. One way that it’s familiar: this marks the third generation of four sons and one daughter. Both my father and myself grew up in a family of such composition. As a matter of fact, the déjà vu is so strong that I have to repeatedly remind myself not to call Anna by my sister’s name.

There is so much more I can say, yet nothing can adequately express how blessed we are. I often feel that I myself don’t quite comprehend it. So, I’ll refrain from digressing. We have a new daughter to love.