Saturday, July 26, 2014
A Letter to my Littles
Remember this day? The one you spent trucking down our half-finished sidewalk and deciding for sure that you really do love each other?
It was one of my favorites of all time.
I look at you there, and here, right now, and I know we take turns failing each other.
And I know that's how it's supposed to be.
Sometimes life seems scattered and rushed.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not doing enough.
That I'm not enough.
I question and second-guess, doubling back to where I started, only to begin again.
I trip into my "old people" stories and ask you to learn from my mistakes when all you want to do is watch Peg + Cat and tie your toys together.
What can I say? It's the sickness of parenthood.
One day you'll do the same thing....
(There I go again.)
It's just that I love you so much.
I feel the years we have left pressing in and I want to redeem them all, and I know that I can't.
I know in my heart it doesn't have to be that way, that there's room for mistakes and missed chances.
I just know I want you to live in freedom starting today and continuing into forever, to not wait until you're 30-odd years old to understand grace and the way it makes you worthy.
I don't want you penned in while you try to measure up.
I want you to see the pain that might come with that name-brand thing.
I want you to look back on your small years and lose your breath over the way they shaped you.
I hope you always keep noticing the bigness of the small pieces.
I'm not ready for it to end.
But you have loved me well and I hope you remember the sticky days stretched out in front of you, the times I threatened chores if you said you were bored, the moments of inspiration where you took up that stick/box/scooter/sprinkler/bathrobe and decided to live a while in another realm. And love it.
I'm telling you, I'll never stop thanking you for being mine.
I know the heartbreak that brought you here and I'll kiss those scars until my lips fall off.
But this is your story, guys.
It's so beautiful and I sit here slack-jawed at the way you're teaching me a kind of courage and strength I didn't understand. Until you.
Please don't worry over your beginnings. Don't wish away this long middle stretch.
I'll do the same.
I'll stay right here, when the days are long and the years knock the wind from us and we'll keep fighting for our family, for the love given to us out of the fullness of God's grace, shaped by all our broken pieces until all that's left is beauty.
I don't deserve your radness.
But I'll take it.
House of Belonging shirt shop