When you’re singing “Holly Jolly Christmas” at the top of your lungs for the umpteenth time in the middle of May, I’m quite sure precious isn’t the word on my lips at the moment. When the bus is coming in a few minutes and you’re dragging your feet and pouting about the choice of chips in your lunch bag, I know my face is more ‘are you serious’ than ‘this is my favorite.’ But you are loved, child, at a depth beyond your understanding.
To the ones who made me a mama – you are the next good in the world.
When I drag you along to volunteer shifts, I want you to see how you can be the change in your community. When I pass a granola bar from our travel stash to the homeless man on the street corner, I want you to see past status and see human. I want you to know that each person in this wide world was created for a purpose, including you. And you can be the one to speak life into another.
To the ones who made me a mama – you’ve taught me more deep lessons than a textbook ever could.
You pushed me straight into fears of bringing humans into this wide world and out the other side with your smiles and your sass. You pushed me past the dictionary definition of patience and made it exceptionally real. But the biggest lesson I can thank you for? This mama thing is hard – and grace is real, live, breathing necessity in this world.
Grace for adult decisions in stewarding your soul.
Grace when seeing other parents decisions and relating that to what’s best for my crew.
Grace for the brokenness in families.
Grace for other mamas. They’re doing the best they can.
So to the ones who made me a mama – thank you.