I Love Being a Mother

 

Darling Little Redhead and El Principito,

I’m so blessed to be your mother!  Thank you for all the joy, laughter, hugs, kisses, creativity, fun and LOVE you bring to my every day!  I love you! 

Mom  

Dear Mom, I Think I Know How You Feel

Dear Mom,

I think I know how you feel. 

They left again today.  So excited to be heading towards their dream. 

New home.

New ministry.

New life.   

In my mind, I’m happy for them.  Thrilled really.  It’s so obvious that they were created for this. 

In my heart though, I’m sad.  So, so sad for all the things that I must release to wistful “Someday”.    

Daily phone calls about, “What’s for dinner?” and “They had broccoli at the supermarket.” and “El Principito said ‘I love you’!” 

Spontaneous coffee dates. 

Hugs.  The really tight kind. 

Taking way too long to figure out who’s hosting Friday night dinner. 

Now those things are lost in yesterday.  From here on out, we’ll always be playing catch up.  Trying to somehow find time to fill each other in on the important details of life.  

And the small ones, the ones that I find so comforting and familiar, their telling will be lost in that elusive 25th hour of the day. 

What’s more, I fear there’s coming a time when they’ll mention something that has become commonplace to them, and I will have absolutely no idea what they are talking about.  Their life is so different from mine now.  

Just as it should be.  They’re following hard after Jesus and I’m inspired by Him in them.      

Unfortunately, inspiration doesn’t prevent grief.   My humanity can’t escape the heart squeezing, tear falling, lonely moments.         

Up until now, I’ve always been the one leaving family behind.  My heart still ached, but then grief was tempered by firm conviction in God’s plan, excitement for dreams come true, amazement at God’s provision and care, perhaps even by mere relief to be finally settled in one place again. 

But now, I’m the one staying.  This time, I’m wearing your shoes, Mom.  And it hurts.  Oh, does it hurt to know what you’re losing. 

You never told me what tremendous resolve it takes to smile and cheer when you really want to tie a brick around their ankles and beg them to stay forever. 

I’m wondering if maybe it’s not the ones who “Go” who sacrifice most, but the ones who stay behind.

I think I know now, at least in part, how you must feel when I’m the one boarding the plane, carrying your grandbabies off to distant lands when they’ve only just began to know who you are. 

I’m so glad I have your example, Mom.  You’ve counted the cost for Jesus and it has made it easier for me to do the same.

Both in the leaving and in the loving of one leaving. 

Counting all things lost,

Shilo