Sweet babies,
You mean more to me than you can dream possible. I don’t expect you will understand just how much I mean that until you hold your own hopes and dreams in your arms, kiss their boo-boos, clean their endless diapers, wipe their tears, cheer for their successes, weep over their sin and brokenness, and rejoice at a flicker of spiritual hope.
Your father and I prayed and longed for your arrival and have stood in awe of your growth and individual personalities.
God has called me not to mother the entire world of children but to mother you. He designed you, in all of your silliness and wiggles to be exactly who you are. He designed me to be exactly who you need.
I have seen you begin to understand deep spiritual truths. You have shown me what it means to live with integrity because to you if it is right, we do it.
You are teaching me patience, gentleness, forgiveness, and reconciliation in a way I have never known. Your dad and I both attest to the fact that nothing in our lives has ever taught us more about our own sinfulness and the gracious patience of our heavenly Father than your lives.
God has used you already to shape and change the people we are dramatically.
I often get caught up thinking about your future. I have seen so many children who grew up to lack love and respect for their parents. I have seen so many friends and family members who don’t want to go home for holidays and desperately seek to move far from their families.
Rightfully, I don’t want that! I have prayed and prayed that God would grant us beautiful relationships as you grow older. I have begged that your future spouses, should you have them, would be welcomed by us and also love to come “home” to us. I have longed that you would think you have the best parents in the entire world. I have hoped that you would ache to return to our embrace. I have dreamed that you would not remember my short temper and quick responses. I have even prayed that God would shield you from my many inadequacies.
But, I have to tell you, sweet children, my prayer has changed.
I still hope that you desire with your whole heart a relationship with both your dad and me for as long as we live. I hope you call and stop by every single day. I hope you and your future spouse and children, if God gives, would feel the absolute welcome of our open door. I hope you never question our love for you or desire for your good.
But I don’t want you to be shielded from my failings. I don’t want you to grow up to think that you have the best parents in the entire world. I don’t want your hearts’ affections directed toward me.
I want you to see my inadequacies, sin, and failure for what they are. I want you to know that your mother is both passionately in love with you and deeply affected by the fall. I want to recognize and never excuse my quick answers and short temper. I want you to see that your mother is flawed.
But, in seeing my shortcomings, I want you to see Christ. I pray that you would recognize, not my lack of failure, but His abundance of grace! I want you to see my sinfulness and marvel that Christ would forgive and redeem even me. I want this for you so that you never fear you are too far from turning to His grace. I want you to always know that you can run to Christ.
Someday when I draw my final breath, I don’t want you to think, “my mother was so good!” I want you to think, “Jesus was so good to my mother!”