Where Mother's Day Finds Me

As more time goes by, I find myself being more and more reflective each Mother's Day. More life happens, more experiences take place, and even more children are born. This year I am thinking about my children...

I am thinking about Anne Michal and her servant's heart. She has a deep faith for a not-quite-13 year old. This faith pours from her heart in how she deals with hard times, how she loves her family and friends, how she weeps for others, and how she desires to offer a helping hand where she can. I can count on her to be steadfast and trustworthy and perhaps most of all I appreciate her compassion toward me and my grief.

I am thinking about Elizabeth and her creativity. She likes pretty things and creating them. She loves to make cards and pictures for others. I love how she can disappear with a few art supplies and come out with something fabulous, and it is almost always for someone other than herself. I am thinking about how she wept with joy at the announcement of a new sibling.

I am thinking about Emma and her lightheartedness. The beauty of being almost 8 and carefree is worthy of envy. She loves to laugh and smile and be a part of things. I love how she loves her baby brother and wants to take care of him. I also love how she has a desire for things of the home; to cook and sew and to be creative in those ways. I'll be sad when the orthodontist fixes that toothy grin and she looks all grown up. She is every bit as random as her paragraph!!!

I am thinking about Jack; my first son. I always heard that boys love their mama's and this one does. He is more like his dad than me and has lots of depth. He is all boy in his love of sports, play and dirt. At the same time, he is very tender and sensitive to others. He watches out for his little brother trying to keep him safe and happy. I can't help but smile when I see the two of them together with Jack's arm around his shoulder. I am watching him grow and develop a sensitivity to the things of the Lord and look forward to seeing the man he is going to come.

I think of Knox and how he melted my heart every day. He'd be 4 1/2 and running right between his brothers. I wonder what he'd be like now. Would he be a budding soccer player like Anne Michal and Jack? Would he be starting to read and beg to do school with everyone else? would his hair still be so very blonde and curl up with the humidity? Would he still carry a doggie around with him wherever he went? My heart has especially ached for him this week as I wished he was still with us.

I think of Creed and am grateful that he came to us in such a time of sorrow. He has been such a special joy and loved by us all. He is always quick for a laugh and has such a great sense of humor for such a little guy. I love his short little body and his waddly walk. Just like his siblings, he loves his books. He also loves his trains and cars just like his brothers. I always think of him being a bit more innocent not knowing the pain of losing Knox, but at the same time I think he "knows" him but I'll save that for maybe another post. There really is nothing like having a toddler in the house for keeping a house full of laughter.

I think of "Molly", the baby I miscarried. If I hadn't, I'd probably be sitting here holding a one week old and smelling that sweet baby smell and stroking those soft baby cheeks and that soft baby hair. It is hard not to wonder what he/she would be like. Blue eyes for sure but other than that who would she most look like? It is hard to feel like you never real knew her, but Knox has a sibling with him and that is comforting in some way.


I think of the baby being knit together right now. Boy? Girl? I am just being thankful amidst the sickness and yuckiness to be able to "do this again." Thankful that my kids think having another sibling is the best thing ever. Thankful that they'd rather have less and do less in order to share life with another brother or sister. Honestly, what better Mother's day present could a Mom ask for than kids who love their family and cherish life.