Well Folks, its that time of the year. That wonderful day when I write a somewhat sappy and almost always tearful message to my mom on her birthday. I thought this year I might for go it because lets be honest only a select few of you will make it past these lines and 90% of that select few will have either shared a last name or a house with me. This year is different though as almost all of you know from my ridiculous amount of pictures, I am a mom this year.
You see your mom in a new light when you hold your own daughter in your arms after sweat and tears to bring her into the world. (except no tears for me thanks to the advances of modern medicine) All the sudden all those late nights she spent praying make sense. The tears she shed when I asked her to drop me off around the corner from school for the first time seem far more personal. All the sudden the sheer wonder of how she has managed to love me for all these years isnt quite a wonder anymore. I get it because when I hold my daughter in my arms I know with out a shout of doubt that there is nothing I wouldnt do for her, including the tough stuff.
You see my mom and I went through the wonderful mother daughter tribulation that comes with teenagedom and from years 14-18 our speaking was on a need to know kinda basis. We fought with a vengeance but she never gave up. Through late nights and one too many parties I threw when they were out of town she fought. Not always with me, but for me. She fought to have a relationship, she backed off when she needed to and she went to battle when she needed to. She read my journal when needed also. She fought for me because while their were some battles worth letting go, like the time I wore a dress I am now ashamed of to my brothers rehearsal dinner (praise Jesus baggy and long is in style these days), when it came to my heart my mom was going to win. So while 14-18 were rough years as soon as I left the house ( I have theory about too much estrogen in one household) I realized how much I truly loved my mom and her valiant fighting payed off.
Fast forward to 2013 and my little girl, affectionatly named after the woman who has done far for me than I care to admit, Claire sleeps in her crib. My desperate prayer for her seems to be the same each day, the same prayer I believe my mother prayed for me. Lord let me child know you with a kind of awe inspiring love that will change her life, oh and God if you could make her like me too that would be great. I know there are many battles ahead of me and many that will cause her to run to her room screaming that she hates me (like all great mother daughter relationships before us) but I cling to the hope that my fighting will not be in vain.
Train up a child in the way he should go,
And when he is old he will not depart from it.
So happy birthday mom, so glad that on this parenting journey I have your wisdom and grace and lets be honest, a babysitter when it all is too much.