Much has been said about children attaching to their mothers - but there's another facet to that miracle: the mother's attaching to her child. Most mothers will tell you how unprepared they were for this mystery. They'd heard other mothers describe it but it sounded cliche - frothy sentimentality. Until it happened.
My children:
The first time you clasped my finger, you clasped my heart.
And the little tugs happened over and over. Innumerable. Like sand or stars. Underfoot and above - and running through me. Changing me. Forming me. The miraculous in the mundane. If they weren't so normal - so usual - so everyday, they would have stunned me and made life impossible. Instead, they made life tangible. Your life's work was making my life work in new rhythms - heart pulses.
your sleepy smile
your slippery body in the bath
you sputtering baby food
your hot sandy body at the beach
your contented little snore
your feverish body and flushed cheeks when ill
you proudly twisting out a loose tooth
your eyes reflecting fireworks
you with melty popsicle running down your front
your sleepy morning smile
your calling out in the night
your questions questions questions
your nightmare-fear screams
your imaginary play
your blanket forts
your reading snuggles
you looking at the Manger Barn
your kitchen help
your sandcastles
you wielding a sparkler
you learning to count
you singing the ABCs
you twirling your hair
you sucking your thumb
you helping with housework
your pretend phone calls
you singing
you learning to crawl
you walking toward me
your face lighting up when I arrive at the church nursery
your playdough projects
you dancing
your block towns
you confessing your sin
you with bubbles
you appearing at our bedside in the night
you looking so tiny in the dentist's chair
you helping me bake
your wispy hair
you scooping out a pumpkin
your newly buzzed haircut
your mosquito bites
you clomping in puddles
you dancing in snow
you watching an ant
you throwing up
you tucked under your quilt
you kneeling in prayer
you looking at the Christmas tree
you eating an apple
your hugs
you sounding out words
you holding a duckling
you wrapping Christmas gifts
you stirring pasta sauce
you decorating cookies
your questions
you painting
you running to me with a scraped knee
you telling on your sibling
you shaping bread dough
you writing your name
you arguing
you asking about the moon
you learning to drive a car
you tossing up leaves
you watching Jungle Book, and The Grinch, and Star Wars, and Lord of the Rings
you holding a caterpillar
you harvesting a tomato
your bad dreams
you digging through the Lego bin
you chatting on the phone
you splashing in the bath
you catching a butterfly
you learning to trike
your teenage angst
you running to us in a storm
you biking away from me
The moments were like manna … they fed me and then dissolved. Daily food from God to energize me. Even when I didn't notice. Even when I couldn't take in all the momentary wonder.
Look what you did to me, my children! You shaped me. You stirred me. You were taught me a new language: unspoken - often unintelligible. But it voiced the lyrics of my heart.
Always.
Your Mom.
