Hey there, my sweetheart, my joy. It’s 2:30 in the afternoon and you’re supposed to be napping like your brother in the crib next to you. How he hasn’t come to yet bewilders me. I only say this because the clunking from your baby dolls hitting their mini cradle beside your bed is enough to wake even the deepest sleeper. But alas, his slumber hasn’t been interrupted. The noise must be a familiar occurrence to him as you avoiding sleep in the afternoon has become the norm and the phrase please read quietly has fallen on deaf ears.
You missed me peaking in at you a few minutes ago. My displeasure of you still awake left quickly as I took you in. You are breathtaking. I can’t believe you are mine, flesh of my flesh. I watched you ever so gently hug your baby and with the utmost care lay her down to sleep.
Then it struck me, why did you do it all so gracefully, so carefully, so lovingly?
And it’s because of me. Me.
You’ve learned how a soft touch equates to love, from me. You’ve learned a gentle but deep hug is beneficial for both giver and receiver, from me.
And then I wonder what else you’re learning from? It’s almost scaring the life out of me to ponder just how much you watch me, take after me, look up to me. I see so much of myself in you.
But, I hope you didn’t see when I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight to the other hip as we stood in the check out line after 20 minutes of waiting.
I hope you didn’t see me on my phone scrolling Instagram for the millionth time today while you quietly played.
I hope you didn’t see me scoff and sigh at your father after we had that disagreement, even though deep down I know he’s right.
I hope you didn’t see me lose my patience with you when I asked five times already to put your books where they belong.
But, I do hope you see me hugging your father and hearing me say, “I love you, Babe”.
I hope you see me holding the door open for the person behind me.
I hope you hear me say “please” and thank you” when we’re at Starbucks ordering my soy caramel latte and a cake pop for you.
I hope you see me reading my Bible and worshipping Jesus in the mornings.
And I hope you hear my heart when I ask for forgiveness for the mistakes I’ve made, for all the wrong things you’ve seen me do.
I’m not perfect, Anna, and neither are you. We need God’s grace more than we even know. As much as I don’t want you to see me lacking as a mother, a wife, and at life, it’s vital that you do. I make mistakes, I hurt people (remember when you told me I hurt your feelings? Broke my heart), I lose control and patience. We all do.
More than anything, what I pray you do see is me coming to the Father after I’ve made a mistake and asking for forgiveness. I hope you see my repentant heart. I hope you see Jesus restoring me and making me new. And I hope someday I’ll get to see that in you too.
I love you and I am so proud to call you mine.