This post has been rattling and bouncing around in my head for a while now, just waiting for an opportunity to get down on paper. And by paper, I mean a computer screen. (And that is why I am so adamant you do your handwriting, Dana, because I refuse to let letter-writing become a lost art. Now, go write a list of all the things you love about me. Because I said so.)
I'm not quite sure how to begin, I feel as if I could write a novel on this particular subject. (Just keep reading children, I sort of promise I won't.)
I guess, well, let's begin with a story. Let's begin with the story of how your Daddy and I met and fell madly in love. Or, as I like to remember it, the night I thought I went temporarily insane. So romantic, I know.
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (really it was just down the road in Hamilton, but we'll keep with the romantic theme), your Mommy was at a Superbowl party at a friend's house. A group of us were sitting around the dining room table playing cards, and I heard the door open and close and a few people come inside. I looked up, saw your father standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the front room, and promptly lost all sense of reason. The very first thing I remember thinking upon seeing him was, "I am going to marry that man". It wasn't even up for debate, it was just the way it was. The fact that I had never uttered a word to him in my life and was actually there on a date with another boy was beside the point. That tall, handsome drink of water in that brown corduroy jacket was going to be mine for the rest of all time, whether he liked it or not. Luckily for me he didn't put up too much of a fuss, and just over two years later we made it official.
Why am I telling you this story? Because that, my little ones, is the moment I look back and see grace walk into the door, into my life, and became part of my everyday reality. I did not, and still do not, deserve your father or the life that we have together. Without going into too many details (at least until you're older. Like, way older. Like *gasp* maybe even married yourselves), I had made a few choices in my life that were not the best ones. I did not at that point in time take anything too seriously, and was just starting to realize, and have to live out, the consequences of some less-than-stellar decisions I had made prior to meeting your father. Let's just say these choices had to do with money, and school, and boys, and family, and God. You know, nothing major.
But kids, when I started dating your Daddy, and when I eventually married him and settled into a life with him, I realized just how much grace had followed him inside the door that day. God had offered me a whole new life. A beautiful, rich, full life that I never could have dreamed up for myself. I still had to deal with the consequences of some of the decisions I had made, because although our God is merciful, He is also a just God. But I was blessed beyond my wildest imagination right in the middle of those consequences, and I was given the ability to see what an awesome, loving, wise, and compassionate God we serve. I still get the chills when I think about where I should and could be in this life, and then look around and see where I am instead. Jesus loves me, this I know. And He rains His grace down upon me still every single day.
And I guess the reason I am writing this all down for you is just to introduce you to the way I want to raise you, and the way I want to see you treat others. But also, as an apology to you. Dear ones, there is nothing here on earth I value more than our family. You and your father make up my whole world. (Along with a smattering of other wonderful people. And Diet Coke.) But for some reason, it is all of you that I seem to have the hardest time offering my own grace to. I find that I can be so hard on you, and the reality of that makes me ache inside. I yell at you, I nag you, I talk down to you, I am impatient with you, I ignore you, the list goes on and on, and the tears fall even as I type these words and think of all the ways I have daily been less than you deserve. You deserve so much more and so much better than I often give you. You deserve grace... grace being rained down upon you. Every moment of every single day, regardless of any choices you have made. And I am so sorry that I am incapable of pouring it down on you myself, and that many times I even intentionally withhold it. I consider it one of my greatest flaws, and it is far and away the one thing that plagues me most and causes me such great remorse when I gaze upon your sleeping, angelic faces at the close of each day and think back on all the ways I could have handled things better.
But it is my heartfelt prayer that you can see through my failures, and my inadequacies, and my broken and lacking words, to the One who longs to continually shower His grace upon you. I pray that you can look past where I fall short and see the One who cannot fail, who cannot not desire only the best for you, who cannot help but love you so much that He took one look at your precious face and gave His own life so He can look at it for eternity. Little ones, you are loved. And out of that love flows grace in spades. Grace upon grace upon grace upon grace. Out of that loves comes an undeserved life, an unending supply of second chances, an offer of a better way to live out your days in this world. And it is in that grace that I find a promise for new mercies every day with you. I get to have another chance tomorrow to be a better mother to you. Grace upon grace upon grace...
Along with this prayer for you to look past me to see Jesus, it is one of my deepest desires that you are wise in your choices, that you learn to think things through, and that you have a greater understanding of cause and effect than your mother ever did. But I hope that when you do make a regrettable decision, as we all do, you will accept and face the consequences head-on knowing that perfect grace is riding in on it's coattails, just waiting and wanting to bless you in the middle of all the mess.
And as for me, it is my promise to try to be so much better at extending to you my own grace. It is unfair and ungrateful of me to withhold this from you when my own life has been marked and changed by it over and over again. I promise you that I will try to be more patient. I will try to accept you for the wonderful, unique individuals God created to be. I will try to be kind to you always, regardless if I am tired, or distracted, or you drank my last Diet Coke. (Don't ever drink my last Diet Coke. Just a heads-up. I am only human.) I will try not to yell at you. I will try to be gentle, and understanding, and exude self-control. I will try to do all these things and much more, all because of the one thing I can promise you. And that is no matter the choices you make or the paths you take, your father and I will always, always love you. No matter what. Always. Love you. Always always. Love you to itty-bitty pieces. Get it? Got it? Good. (By the way, Dana, how's that list coming of all the ways you love me? Not a good time? Oh, okay. Maybe later.)
Kiddo's, it took me a long time, a lot of right steps and a bunch of missteps to get to where I am today, but I wouldn't change any one of them because in the center of it all I was brought face to face with God and his life-changing grace, and I was given you. And between you and Him and that tall, handsome drink of water father of yours, you all make up the very best parts of me.
Thanks for listening. Reading. Whatever. Just... thank you for letting me learn how to love you better every day.
Love,
Momma
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