Vitafamiliae

We took a family road trip today to the state capitol.  Andrew and I needed to get fingerprinted so the FBI can run background checks on us and make sure we’ll be suitable parents…  Ahem.

It’s a good thing I don’t have to put my blog address on any application forms.

In true Vitafam fashion, it wouldn’t be a real road trip without two or three u-turns and one unexpected pit stop.  We realized halfway down the interstate that we needed cashier’s checks to pay for our fingerprinting, so even though I’d faithfully written myself a note on my phone the night before: “take checkbook” and then even more faithfully opened a whole new box of checks just to put a checkbook in my purse first thing this morning, we were still without a proper form of payment.  Sigh.  Why is it that the federal government won’t accept “I have five kids under six” as an excuse for all my failures?

So I pulled out my handy iPhone and found us the nearest bank.  Ten minutes later, we had two cashier’s checks in hand and we were good to go.

Fingerprinting is all fancy these days.  There’s no ink.  There’s a glass top thingy and I press my fingers on it and my prints appear on the computer screen in front of me.  I was kinda hoping for tell-tale black smudges, but this was pretty cool to look at.  I stared at the blown-up images on the screen.

My fingerprints.

My unique smudges on this world.  Created by my Creator, just for me.  Nobody else has those ridges, loops, and circles exactly like I do.  Before time began, God made that pattern.  He looked at my hands and my prints and he said, “Mine.  You were made for me, for my Glory and for my purposes.”

Even better, somewhere in the world, there’s a baby with his or her own set of fingerprints.  Unique.  One of a kind.  And God made that baby knowing that some day, I will hold it in my arms and say, “Mine.  God created you with love, He fashioned your every fingertip.   And He has placed you in our family.  You were made… for me.”

And there the analogy breaks down, because I will never be the Perfect Parent.  I will spend my life pointing that child to the God who is.  But I can’t wait to press those smaller fingertips up against my own and revel in the fact that we were both made by the same Creator.

With the same love.

For the very same purpose.