Birth Story

Cape Town waves, by Hans-Christian Harder

About two months ago, pregnant with our sixth child, I began to look into something I have previously never considered: a home birth. I was 34 weeks pregnant and becoming increasingly frustrated with my OB who seemed focused on reminding me of all the possible things that could go wrong with my delivery. I’ve given birth five times before, no c-sections, no high blood pressure, no gestational diabetes, no placenta previa, no PPH or any of the other complications possible. My only issue has been that my pregnancies tend to go past 41 weeks! So after been told I was “high-risk” one too many times I decided to look into seeing a midwife and having a home birth.

Surprisingly this was met with complete support from my husband, who as a licensed paramedic wasn’t previously interested in the idea. We considered all the factors (including our 5 minute ETA to the hospital, if necessary), found a highly recommended, experienced certified nurse-midwife from Switzerland, and went shopping for exciting things like ice-packs, linen savers, and homeopathic oils and powders. I talked to amazingly supportive and encouraging friends who’d had home births. I learned some new exercises to help baby enter the birth canal, made some freezer meals, saw two such freezer meals slide out of the freezer, crash on the concrete floor, proceeded to clean up broken glass dishes and cried about throwing away my glass-shard filled food. I read dozens of home birth and water birth stories, got inspired, and then got totally freaked out when I remembered my last labor. Yes, we do forget the pain of childbirth but I can ask any one of you who’s delivered a baby to try to remember…and yes that memory is as fresh as if it happened yesterday, if we want to call it up.

We eagerly anticipated my due date, and then saw it come and go. Christmas Day came and went. 41 weeks. No baby.

Finally Monday night I started to have consistant contractions, every 10-15 minutes. I woke to some other definite signs of impending labor and since the contractions persisted I felt fairly certain labor was beginning! I called the friends I had lined up to watch the kids and we dropped them off that afternoon as I prepared mentally to give birth. As the heat of the day increased all signs of labor stopped. Nothing. Sadly we picked the kids back up again and I became that woman who faked labor.

As the sun went down that night, my contractions started again. Every 10-15 minutes, the whole night. I tried to sleep in between but by morning I thought, certainly this is it. So I called the midwife, and she came over about 8:30am. Just as everything stopped again. She shared with me her concerns about having the home birth since my labor didn’t seem to be progressing. She gently told me she would like me to deliver in the hospital, where she could still attend the delivery.

We went in for a non-stress test and saw baby was still happy inside. The midwife did an internal exam and saw that I was only dilated 2cm and not effaced, even after two nights full of contractions. The rest of the day was so hard…I felt like my chances for a delivery without intervention were slipping away. My two main goals with this baby were to go into labor on my own and deliver on my own. As I was sitting for the non-stress test I saw the shelves full of epidural equipment and could just see the scene play out…induced labor not progressing, me getting exhausted and stressed, finally asking for medication, eventually delivering but having to sort through mixed feelings of disappointment at not having the natural childbirth I desired. I’ve had three deliveries unmedicated, two where I got an epidural. One of those was necessary due to my level of exhaustion and prolonged labor due to induction, but the other was me second-guessing myself and getting one more out of fear of another prolonged labor. Part of my strong desire for a home-birth was to be in a supportive environment where I could labor on my own and not be tempted with short-cutting the awesome experience of natural childbirth. If I know relief from pain is sitting next to me on a shelf at the hospital…I am going to go for it!

But since above all of this is the goal of a healthy baby, I agreed to deliver at the hospital. We made arrangements for a friend to come stay with the kids at home.

I considered an interesting comment by my mid-wife, that rarely in her experience do women give birth during the heat of the day. If a client hasn’t called her by 8am, she knows the baby will not be born that day and she is free until evening. This seemed to sync with my experience with labor as well.

At sunset that evening, my contractions re-surged with a vengeance. Every 7 minutes, strong and getting stronger. I dared to hope this was real labor, but kept quiet about it because of the previous false alarms. Finally when I almost dropped Eva while working through a contraction, I told Gert I think this is real labor and maybe we should call the midwife. I chatted with her on the phone, explaining they were coming every 4-5 minutes now and what should I do? So she said she would get dressed and come over, and why don’t I take a hot shower in the meantime to relax me.

While in the shower I had several strong contractions and started trembling uncontrollably. Since it was a hot night I knew I wasn’t cold. By the time Natasha came over, I was nearly in transition. We didn’t really discuss it, but since I was so close to delivery, she decided to assist us at home after all. She helped me find positions to labor in, the one that helped the most was leaning over an exercise ball on the bed with Gert by my side. She used several essential oils to rub my back, apply heat, and generally guide the baby down the birth canal. As I tried to manage the intensity of each surge, she said things to me like “only you can do this, no one can take this away from you,” and “you want this, you want this baby, you can do this.” She helped me breathe, and told me to visualise the baby on the other side of the road, and said I had to go get it. This one didn’t work for me :). First I pictured my newborn laying there in the ditch and then standing up like a toddler about to get hit by a car! But visualising the baby wanting to come down the birth canal and eager to meet me did help.

“With my God I can scale a wall,” the word He gave me in my 8th month of pregnancy, resonated in my mind throughout the labor, especially in the intense time of transition. As I spoke this out loud, I felt His power strengthen both my mind, heart, and body.

The midwife suggested I sit in the bathroom through a couple of contractions, I think she was hoping my water would break there. She asked if I could feel the head, and I asked her if she wanted to check me to make sure I was fully dilated for pushing. She declined, saying each time you do an internal exam, it sets labor back again, and I would know when I was ready to push. After two more strong back to back contractions I stood up and immediately felt the urge to push. I was standing next to the bed hanging on to Gert when in one gush my water broke and I felt the burn of baby”s head crowning. I pushed once and her head and shoulders came out, the rest of her body quick to follow. Natasha reacted quickly to catch her by the head and leg, unwrap the cord which was loosely looped around her neck twice, and hand her to my shocked self. Labor was over and suddenly I had a baby!

She cried and cried and cried, yet none of the kids woke up. Fireworks were going off all along the beach front, and we watched from our bedroom window. Labouring through New Year’s Eve, she was born 12:30am New Year’s Day, 11 days past my due date. It was a celebratory, joyful, peaceful birth-day, with candles and worship music and my amazingly supportive husband and midwife attending the birth of our sixth baby, in the comfort of our home. I learned so much from this experience, about allowing my body to do what God created it to do without interference and allowing myself to lean into pain, knowing it is birthing something new and beautiful and full of life.

I am so grateful for this birth. God is so good to me. His kindness and hand was with us through it all. He helped me overcome the discouragement of two days of false labor and brought me through a fast and intense labor when at last the time came. I am thankful for all the prayers that helped this labor and delivery commence and follow through without hesitation or stalling. And I am so thankful and in love with our little 8 lb 12 oz Eden Joy Roets.

Hope and Eden

Special Birth Announcement from Anne M



Undocumented for several months now, I need to reconnect with my blog. I’m reaching the end of my pregnancy (37 weeks today!) and God is helping me to quietly process the logistical, relational and spiritual challenges we’ve experienced the last four months. We’re being re-directed in ministry after laying down a great dream and an unexpected move came up with extenuating circumstances, all while I’m in my third trimester, homeschooling the kids, and pioneering the first Classical Conversations community in South Africa.

Some of these challenges are old ones. Yet I’ve learned something key regarding tests. I used to refer to tests from the Lord as pass/fail…and if you don’t pass it, it will come around again, bringing on a sense of failure. God revealed to me that when he is trying to teach us something, he will do so through many means. And the important lessons are usually repeated! If I can summarise what I’ve learned:

If I don’t hold on too tightly to my own plans, it won’t hurt so much when God changes them.

We are continually called to love each other deeply from the heart. This is not easy.

God does ask us to walk through things too much for us to handle. How else could his power be made perfect in our weakness?

I am grateful for my husband’s initiative to start our family studying the book of Proverbs as this has been a well of life, insight, and direction through our circumstances. I am thankful for the muscles of faith developed in Gert and I, and our children, as we pray for another new house and prepare for another move. I am floored by the avenues of blessing towards this unborn baby. We did not foresee reaching the threshold of six children and yet the prayers, vision, prophetic words, and material provision has exceeded any other pregnancy. I feel that because we said yes to God for what in our minds is an extreme step of faith, he is releasing a new store of blessing to us. I feel entirely overwhelmed that we will be parenting an almost-teenager all the way down to toddler and newborn. Yet I know the grace of God will be with us as we walk through the unique needs of each child. We are sustained.

This blog post feels rough and clumsy, uncertain but moving towards confidence. Much like how I feel as we make decisions about where and how this baby will be born and where we will live. I am excited about new possibilities and leading towards a midwife and home birth and peering around the corner at the possibility of buying a house.

Thank you to Susie Squirrell and Hans-Christian Harder for these great pics of our kids! 🙂

Evangeline, 22 months

Evangeline, 22 months. She says “yay!” for yes–keeping the team spirit alive in our family.

Gabrielle, still a sweet spirit

Gabrielle, still a sweet spirit


This is a frequent sight these days


Exploring the backyard


Et is the one who has changed the most lately. Do you even recognise this boy?


Gleefully playing in the hole he dug, before discovered by his dad…

Dining With the Greats of God’s Army

Photo by Susie Squirrell

We are excited to announce the upcoming arrival of no. 6! I am happy and feeling good and we embrace this new life and addition to the family. Yet with each new child comes a crisis of faith. Is God really asking more of me? How can I handle another baby? Can he provide for this one when it already seems we are stretched to the max?

And then I need another dose of vision. Of the why. Of the high calling. Of the purpose. I’d like to share with you this poem, which does exactly that.

I am a Woman

My willingness to carry life is the revenge, the antidote, the great rebuttal of every murder, every abortion, and every genocide. I sustain humanity. Deep inside of me, life grows. I am death’s opposition.

I have pushed back the hand of darkness today. I have caused there to be a weakening tremor among the ranks of those set on earth’s destruction. Today a vibration that calls angels to attention echoed throughout time. Our laughter threatened hell today.

I dined with the greats of God’s army. I made their meals, and tied their shoes. Today, I walked with greatness, and when they were tired I carried them. I have poured myself out for the cause today.

It is finally quiet, but life stirs inside of me. Gaining strength, the pulse of life sends a constant reminder to both good and evil that I have yielded myself to Heaven and now carry its dream. No angel has ever had such a privilege, nor any man. I am humbled by the honor. I am great with destiny.

I birth the freedom fighters. In the great war, I am a leader of underground resistance. I smile at the disguise of my troops, surrounded by a host of warriors, destiny swirling, invisible yet tangible, and the anointing to alter history. Our footsteps marking land for conquest, we move undetected through the common places.

Today I was the barrier between evil and innocence. I was the gate keeper, watching over the hope of mankind, and no intruder trespassed. There is not an hour of day or night when I turn from my post. The fierceness of my love is unmatched on earth.

And because I smiled instead of frowned the world will know the power of grace. Hope has feet, and it will run to the corners of earth, because I stood up against destruction.

I am a woman. I am a mother. I am the keeper and sustainer of life here on earth. Heaven stands in honor of my mission. No one else can carry my call. I am the daughter of Eve. Eve has been redeemed. I am the opposition of death. I am a woman.

By Christianna Reed Maas

Why Submitting to Your Husband Gives You the Upper Hand


I believe in the biblical principle of wives submitting to their husbands as to the Lord. This was not always the case.

My wordly views stemmed straight from our corrupt culture. That a strong, independent woman would think for herself and submission meant being meek and insecure and dominated by a man.

Yet as an 18 year old, the truth of the gospel slowly unfolded before my eyes and a new image of submission appeared. One that grew into a spectacular cathedral of thinking.

Husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church. Wives are to submit to their husbands, as husbands are the head of their wives like Christ is the head of the church.

I love the way The Message paraphrases Ephesians 5:22-28.

Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ. The husband provides leadership to his wife the way Christ does to his church, not by domineering but by cherishing. So just as the church submits to Christ as he exercises such leadership, wives should likewise submit to their husbands.

Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They’re really doing themselves a favor—since they’re already “one” in marriage. (Ephesians 5:22-28 MSG)

So when I submit to my husband, I am doing so in obedience to God, and thus it is an act of faith. I am entrusting my well-being to my husband, and in doing so trusting in his obedience to God to love me and do what’s best for me.

If I put my money on myself, and choose to do what I think is best rather than allowing my husband to lead, then ultimately I limit my experience of the sacrificial love of Christ evidenced through my husband.

This may or may not make sense to you. But God continues to challenge me with just how far I will take this concept of submission. Because the little things do matter, they add up, and bigger things are on the horizon.

Early in our courtship, a friend also in a cross-cultural marriage relayed this wisdom to me: “Remember, you are a team, and you are on the same side.”

So we are on the same side, my husband and I, and I believe in marriage God can use husbands and wives to do things together that they cannot do separately. But this is contingent on his leading, her following. Often I am glad the burden of leadership and can we say decision-making doesn’t fall on my shoulders. You don’t want to know how long it takes me to figure out what to order in a restaurant or what toothbrush to buy!

If my husband is actually willing to lay down his life for me, what do I have to lose by submitting to him? If he loves me as he loves himself, he will give me nothing but the very best. As he seeks out direction from God, he has my best interest in mind. As I honor him, respect him, and submit to him, the door opens for God’s abundant blessing and provision in my life and marriage. In humbling myself through the act of submission, God can raise me up through the nobility of a husband fulfilling his call to protect and provide.

I’ve had a recent struggle with submission. After a series of moves in 2013 I said something to the effect of “I am happy to die right here in this place, I shall never move again.”

That sounds like a song. Maybe I sang it.

And then I hear the words I scorn. I resist hearing them. I am sarcastic and unyielding as I know what he wants. To move.

From my point of view, it doesn’t matter that this other house is just 5 minutes from where we live now. Ocean view, shmocean view. I’m not impressed. So what if we will save money or that the house is being renovated with new carpet, paint, and backsplash as we speak. I can think of nothing good to say about another move.

I can feel the anger boiling under my skin and suddenly I’m sure he is just thinking of himself. He just wants that stupid view, I say to myself.

But didn’t I ask the Lord, way back when we contemplated a move to Cape Town, for a view of both the sea and the mountains? Nawhh, I don’t think so. I look around at our current home with rose-colored glasses, not seeing the broken tiles and fixtures and leaking tub and postage-stamp yard.

Since I promised to pray about it, I grudgingly go before the Lord and pour out my pitiful case, certain the Lord will stroke my pride and say I’m right and my husband is being selfish.

But as I pray, I clearly hear God telling me to submit. I think I actually stomped my foot! How embarrassing.

The truth is, even after I give the A-Okay to my husband on this move, I am still pouting. It comes out in my attitude, in a subtle hostility and undermining way. When God told me I needed to submit on this one, he didn’t mean go talk to my friends and tell them how much I’m dreading this move. He didn’t say go email your mother and sister and get them to feel sorry for you.

When I am confronted with my unpleasant attitude, then I see the disparity of it. I have been playing the martyr.


Instead of rising in my posture and position as a much-loved woman, by my God and my husband, I sulked in the ashes, not seeing the full blessing God wanted to release to me through the desire and will of my husband.

And then, I get the revelation of a truly biblical attitude toward submission.

“I am trusting the Lord that there is a reason for this move {my act of submission}.”

What I cannot see, I trust God for. When I am called to submit, it is an act of faith in the goodness of a kind and loving God. No sooner than these words are out of my mouth, I feel the anger dissipate. And when we arrive back to our house after 2 weeks away, my heart is in an entirely different place. A new song of praise is living there, and I am excited to move, to make another house into home. And I realize that all along I have been holding back, knowing that we are not really settled in the house we live in now.

So while the world scorns humility and submission, God celebrates it. It is another chance for him to radiate his supernatural grace through the covenant of marriage. Submission is beautiful and holy and evidenced in Christ himself as he lay down his life for us. And, as I now know, God will not be fooled into thinking you are submitting when you are not! Neither will your husband, for that matter. Submission is a matter of the heart.

Photo courtesy of
Thank you Todd & Dezi for sharing your amazing photo with us!

Though it Linger

We are back in our home in the beautiful Western Cape of South Africa after two weeks traveling with our 5 kids to a missions retreat. It was a hairy ride up and a beautiful one back. Sometimes I feel like we barely survive traveling with kids (read about our trip here) but you know I will be doing it again! Grace and short-term memory loss help with the thought of such future travels ;-).

I’ve been wanting to share this post with you for a few weeks. I’m excited for two reasons. One, Oswald Chambers captured my attention with this deep and potent word, and I am still stirred by it. Two, our friend Janelle Willis took this amazing picture and when I saw it, I knew…Habakkuk 2:3. If she had hurried the photo, the colors of brilliance would be weak. The timing was just so. Thank you, Janelle, for sharing your stunning photo.


If we lose “the heavenly vision” God has given us, we alone are responsible—not God. We lose the vision because of our own lack of spiritual growth. If we do not apply our beliefs about God to the issues of everyday life, the vision God has given us will never be fulfilled. The only way to be obedient to “the heavenly vision” is to give our utmost for His highest—our best for His glory. This can be accomplished only when we make a determination to continually remember God’s vision. But the acid test is obedience to the vision in the details of our everyday life—sixty seconds out of every minute, and sixty minutes out of every hour, not just during times of personal prayer or public meetings.

“Though it tarries, wait for it . . .” (Habakkuk 2:3). We cannot bring the vision to fulfillment through our own efforts, but must live under its inspiration until it fulfills itself. We try to be so practical that we forget the vision. At the very beginning we saw the vision but did not wait for it. We rushed off to do our practical work, and once the vision was fulfilled we could no longer even see it. Waiting for a vision that “tarries” is the true test of our faithfulness to God. It is at the risk of our own soul’s welfare that we get caught up in practical busy-work, only to miss the fulfillment of the vision. Watch for the storms of God. The only way God plants His saints is through the whirlwind of His storms. Will you be proven to be an empty pod with no seed inside? That will depend on whether or not you are actually living in the light of the vision you have seen. Let God send you out through His storm, and don’t go until He does. If you select your own spot to be planted, you will prove yourself to be an unproductive, empty pod. However, if you allow God to plant you, you will “bear much fruit” (John 15:8).
Obedience to the Heavenly Vision, Oswald Chambers

These words resonate soundly in my spirit. Do you have a vision from the Lord? God sent us to very southernmost place in Africa, Cape Town, with a dream and vision to disciple, train, and help lead a generation of young adults in reaching the unreached. You know what is odd in a wonderful sort of way? We are finally old enough to be ‘fathers’ and ‘mothers’ towards the younger crowd. We are at that age when we can be more than just a few steps ahead but really influence a younger generation. I love it!

God is stirring up my dreams. Dreams I had when I was 19 and 20 that were either just begun and then put on hold or stayed in the seed form altogether. Honestly I let some of these dreams die. It was easier that way, especially in the harried season of birthing babies and diapers and nursing and sleep deprivation.

It is exciting (and daunting…) to be reminded of dreams and vision again. Some days I feel like there is no way I can be of any use to anyone, not even knowing if I should start with the laundry or the dishes or getting myself dressed before lunchtime. And homeschooling? What grade are my kids in again??

Can you relate to this?

But then there is the storm of God, when God sends you out, and decides it’s time for you to be released. I love how Chambers says we must live under the inspiration of the vision until it fulfills itself. God has a way of working in us as we wait it out, of planting desire in our spirits and then as we work out our salvation he waters those seeds and they sprout and begin to produce life.

How has it happened in your life? Looking back on the last 15 years, I have changed and grown so much. But it’s interesting to note that my dreams and vision have not changed but rather matured. Much like that rock hard avocado I bought the other day. After what felt like a generation of waiting, it was finally ripe and perfect for our favorite food…guacamole!

I am still in the early to middle stage of raising our children, of being a homemaker, of learning how to love my husband and build the nations of the earth through our family. This is my first calling, focus, and passion of my heart. I suppose 95% of my time and energy is spent on being the keeper of our home. Yet God in his brilliant goodness can anoint all hours of the day, even in the life of a stay-at-home-missionary-homeschooling-wife-and-mother to bring forth fruit and fulfillment.

Be encouraged that God can cause us to dream dreams again! I am thankful for these words of wisdom today as we carry on raising our 5 disciples but also walk forward with a vision to tear down darkness in our culture and build up sons and daughters from all nations of the earth.

A Series of Unfortunate Un-adventures

Let me tell you a little story. Once there was a family who, bold, brave, and optimistic, packed their belongings tightly in their well-travelled mini-bus and headed north to a far-away place, on their way to a missionary retreat. Their foresight allowed them the prudence of departing one day later than planned, as to allow their sweet little children one more day to recover from a tiny cold. Long before dawn, five chirpy children nestled cozily into their car-beds laid out carefully by their daddy, their duvets, sheets, and pillows piled high. Eventually nodding off to a long-winded sermon CD, they slept soundly over a mountain pass and through an extraordinary tunnel carved through the mountains. Then one little head popped up and said, “Daddy, my tummy hurts.”

The mildy concerned but still optimistic mommy and daddy said, “Oh, don’t worry little one, you’re just a bit carsick. Sit up, and look straight ahead.”

They drove on, comforting this little one when she emptied out the scarce contents of her tummy. A few hours passed and it was time for breakfast, when the mommy noticed she didn’t feel so well. When she passed up an anticipated steaming hot Wimpy coffee, her husband compassionately asked if she is pregnant.

NO, I’m not pregnant!” came the disagreeable response.

The poor mommy turned green and ran for the bathroom.

Later, after consuming many snacks and yogurt drinks, after many construction delays and routine police checkpoints, the little boy started howling from the backseat. He, too, experienced the effects of what this bold, brave and no longer optimistic family realized was the sudden onset of stomach flu.

Again and again this unfortunate little boy headed for the side of the road, his daddy learning just how quickly he could pull over and hit the brakes while passing coal trucks and other inspired African vehicles.


While on such a stop, another little girl popped up and said the now much dreaded words, “Mommy, I don’t feel so good.” Her devoted but barely standing mommy quickly handed her the second-to-last barf bag. Then the brave oldest daughter burst into a puddle of tears. “I don’t want to throw up!!!” she wailed, “Why does this have to happen every time we go on a car trip?”

It was then this mommy and daddy realized they were three for three with road trips and the flu.

Time for some prayer! That is not God’s blessing…and his word says he will watch over all our comings and goings! So they prayed and broke any curses off their travel time. Unfortunately the sickness still had to run its course.

The tired, nauseous, and edgy family finally arrived at their half-way stopover for the night. They phoned ahead to forewarn their lovely but temporarily crippled aunt of the sudden onset of stomach flu and asked to be quarantined immediately upon arrival. Unfortunately that was not to be the case as guests were already occupying her bed and breakfast rooms. So while the family tried to be polite and sit around the dinner table with an exquisite homemade lasagna and salad, events were not to move in a positive direction.

The high-context Afrikaans culture of the daddy’s family dictated a table set with china, a delicate table-cloth, wine glasses, and conversation with the former Dean of Theology at the University of Bloemfontein involving the merits of studying Latin.

When suddenly, while the mommy with bloodshot eyes tried to feed lasagna to her fussy baby, this sad fussy baby became the last child to serve projectile-vomit all over the dinner table. Both of them covered in vomit, the humiliated, weary, and queasy mommy quickly excused herself to find the recompense of a hot bath and bed for herself and sick baby.

The next day she awoke feeling much better after sleeping for eleven and a half hours straight to the greetings of an amazing, healthy, considerate and hard-working husband who took care of the baby and all vomiting children through the night.

Enjoying a ride in Tannie Amanda’s walker as she recovers from knee surgery

Van scrubbed and disinfected and vomit-covered duvets, sheets, pillows, and clothing bagged for laundering they stopped for some Power-Aide and finished the drive to their destination, passing spectacular fields of blooming cosmos along the way, without further ado.



The End.



photo credit

I Will Give Them a Crown of Beauty

As I write this, it is Gabrielle’s 5th birthday, and a new tradition is begun. We take turns with each of our kids to have a special “date” with dad. This ranges from a trip to the grocery store (special to be alone when you have four other siblings vying for this privilege!) or out for a milkshake. Once it even involved shopping for clothes at a Thrift Store.

But today, on her birthday, it’s G’s turn. I fully expect her to in be in complete princess regalia as she goes out to breakfast with her Daddy. As the news spread through our home that G is going out for a birthday breakfast with Dad, each child smiled and commented wistfully…”I want to do that.” It certainly helps that our favorite restaurant in South Africa gives a voucher for a free kids meal on their birthday!

It is so important for Dads to make a habit of filling up their daughter’s hearts with words and actions of love, affirmation, affection. It’s easy for me to smother my kids with love and kisses. Yes, they need that too. But something different happens when their father kneels down and looks them in the eye and says, “You’re beautiful.”


“A father-daughter relationship is the God-ordained birthplace of true beauty in a young woman. Just as God spoke words into a formless void and the world came into being at creation, a father’s words create beauty, security, and confidence in a daughter. When words of blessing, looks of love, and pure touch have gone forth from a father and done their work in a daughter’s spirit, she is not drawn to the other voices that may want to lure her. She is not dependent on those other voices to validate her because she has already been securely validated in her beauty through her father.

There has been a lot of talk about spiritual warfare in recent years. If you want to fight hell and the powers of darkness that seek to destroy the hearts of our daughters, I know a type of spiritual warfare that creates value in a daughter’s spirit. It is called “Taking your Daughter out for Tea” or “Going to Her Soccer Game,” and it works in direct opposition to the agenda of hell and darkness that wants to destroy their lives. They need our time, attention, questions, and interest.”

Jim Anderson, Unmasked, pgs. 44,48

We are so thankful for this princess, this daughter of the King; for her delightful spirit, easy smile, and way of bringing out the best in people.