Friday, May 11, 2012

mother may like you

I look at my daughter.
Sweet Annaleigh.
With a belly full of laughs.
And those brown eyes that disappear in the presence of her smile.

Sweet Annaleigh.
Head strong.
Mind of her own.
Full of stubbornness....but not to a fault.

Sweet Annaleigh.
Who is in love with bedtime songs.
Your fingers sifting through her hair.
And her arms softly tickled "nice".

Sweet Annaleigh.
Who ponders.
And thinks.

Sweet Annaleigh.
Who loves others.
Empathizes with your struggle.
And helps.

 Sweet Annaleigh.
Who has a bear for a Mama. a fault.
A mama that would die or kill.

Batter-bowls licked,
              loving kisses kissed, 
                            hugs that are squeezes, 
                                          games that are played,
                                                        love you words said,
                                                                      lessons shared of Jesus,
                                                                                    and lives lived together 
                                                                                                 because of a God who said it should be.

I think of my Mama.
Sweet Mama.
Is this what you meant?
Didn't you try to tell me?
Didn't I refuse to hear?

But I learned it all from you...
Head strong.
Soft touches.
Protecting a life.
Your joy will come in the morning.

All these things you lived.
All these things I have now learned.
All these things my Sweet Annaleigh is.

We three are one.

It was because of 
The strong life that you lived.
The sacrifices you made.
The singleness you endured.

To show me that this is Jesus' way.

Sweet Mama.
Is this what you meant?  
Why did I refuse to hear?

That a mother's life
is lived for her babies.
With her babies.
Loving her babies.
It is lived to die.

Sweet Annaleigh.
It was your Gramma that showed me how.
To be your Mama.
To love you so.

To show me that this is Jesus' way.


Happy Mother's Day, Mama.
There is no doubting she is your grandbaby.
Thank you for that.
And for everything else.

This post is part of the:

1000 Moms Project

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Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. -Unknown