Hawk of the Battle

Gavin Michael Judah.
Tonight while putting you and Charley to bed I noticed your full name on the canvas I painted when I was pregnant with you.
Gavin – Hawk of the Battle
Michael – Gift from God
Judah – One who brings praise
My eyes lingered on these words, and suddenly they felt so powerful.
I always dreamed you’d grow to be a man who battled towards righteousness and for justice. A man who would praise God in all things and enter your battles like the tribe of Judah, with His praise on your lips. But now I find myself considering that while you are only two years old, we are in a time of worldwide crisis and perhaps God named you for a time such as this?
So many unknowns encircle and choke, leaving us gasping as our hope escapes us. When I imagine what our life may look like with everything stripped away, however, I always arrive at the same scene. It’s not that our business has survived or not or that we had to sell our house and move. I don’t arrive with a handful of the peripheral details of life we all spend most of our days scrambling to preserve.
I arrive at one. bottom. line.
We have air in our lungs to know and praise the One who made us. And that is it.
And so, my little Hawk of the Battle.
No matter where this battle takes us, your name is reminder that we must cling to the most meaningful battle of all – the one for our souls. It’s my duty and honor as your mother – the one who, alongside with your father and your Father, named you prophetically – to raise you to know Him and equip you to battle for His cause.
May you fight for and defend what is true, and do so honorably.
May you know you are a gift from God, my precious treasure, and may you treat all those you encounter in life with the same dignity and respect, as they too are treasures.
May you praise Him in all circumstances.
This time of uncertainty leaves us asking, what’s next? What else will I have to give up? Will things ever be the same? My love, we will mourn each loss – the people we loved, the things we had hoped for, the way things were. The life we once knew may return with similarity or be completely stripped away… but when mourning fades and morning comes, we will see that nothing could ever separate us from the love of Christ.
Rest well, my little Hawk. Morning is coming.

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