A Letter to the Children I Haven't Had Yet
I'm reading a book, and it briefly talks about how women have the tendency to be motherly, even if they aren't mothers. And I swear half of my Facebook friends had kids in the last week. So for SOME reason I've been thinking about what it would be like to be a mother one day, and I just wanted to write a letter to my kiddos that I don't have yet. Maybe it's weird. Maybe it's not. I don't know, but this is my blog and I can do what I want, right? :)
Dear Children That I Haven't Had Yet:
I am not a mother right now, but it is something I want to be someday, and I think about it often-will I be a good mom, will I suck at it, will I ever know what I'm doing? etc...- So I'm writing to you, even though I don't know you yet. I want to tell you a little bit about what I hope for. Maybe you'll read this one day.
I can't imagine all the fierce, exhausting, overwhelming, indescribable ways that I love you.
I don't know your names or if you are boys or girls. I don't know if you are yellow, black, or white. I don't know if you your hair is blonde or brown or red or purple or green. I don't know if I adopted you or birthed you, but you are mine.
I don't know if you can hear or see, or if you have four limbs and ten fingers and ten toes, or if you have an extra chromosome.
I don't know if you are gay or straight.
I don't know if you are an A+ student or if we will celebrate and breathe a sigh of relief when you make C's.
I don't know if you will mostly make good choices or if I will perpetually be trying to come up with different punishments for your ridiculous need to be crazy.
I don't know if you are soft and quiet or loud and spastic.
But here is what I do know: that you are the Lord's before you are anyone or anything else's-including mine.
And I hope I show you Jesus and how much he loves you, and I hope you love him with every ounce of your being.
I hope I show you how to love without condition, and how to be humble and work hard and show grace.
I hope I show you how to love yourself for everything you are and everything you are not.
I hope you want to change the world in whatever way you can, and that you will be a light in the darkest places.
I hope we laugh a lot and say "I love you."
I hope you take risks and skin your knees and scare me with your boldness.
I hope you are kind to people who can do nothing for you.
I hope you stand up for yourself and fight your own battles with confidence and grace.
I hope you make mistakes and find redemption in imperfection.
I hope your heart breaks but that you will still choose to be soft and not hardened.
I hope we build blanket forts and stay up late reading books and telling stories.
I hope we go on adventures and invite other people to go with us.
I hope you do what you love so I can love it with you and watch you make things beautiful in your own way.
I hope you know how fiercely I love you and how proud I am to be your mom.
Love,
Mom, when she wasn't your Mom yet.
Dear Children That I Haven't Had Yet:
I am not a mother right now, but it is something I want to be someday, and I think about it often-will I be a good mom, will I suck at it, will I ever know what I'm doing? etc...- So I'm writing to you, even though I don't know you yet. I want to tell you a little bit about what I hope for. Maybe you'll read this one day.
I can't imagine all the fierce, exhausting, overwhelming, indescribable ways that I love you.
I don't know your names or if you are boys or girls. I don't know if you are yellow, black, or white. I don't know if you your hair is blonde or brown or red or purple or green. I don't know if I adopted you or birthed you, but you are mine.
I don't know if you can hear or see, or if you have four limbs and ten fingers and ten toes, or if you have an extra chromosome.
I don't know if you are gay or straight.
I don't know if you are an A+ student or if we will celebrate and breathe a sigh of relief when you make C's.
I don't know if you will mostly make good choices or if I will perpetually be trying to come up with different punishments for your ridiculous need to be crazy.
I don't know if you are soft and quiet or loud and spastic.
But here is what I do know: that you are the Lord's before you are anyone or anything else's-including mine.
And I hope I show you Jesus and how much he loves you, and I hope you love him with every ounce of your being.
I hope I show you how to love without condition, and how to be humble and work hard and show grace.
I hope I show you how to love yourself for everything you are and everything you are not.
I hope you want to change the world in whatever way you can, and that you will be a light in the darkest places.
I hope we laugh a lot and say "I love you."
I hope you take risks and skin your knees and scare me with your boldness.
I hope you are kind to people who can do nothing for you.
I hope you stand up for yourself and fight your own battles with confidence and grace.
I hope you make mistakes and find redemption in imperfection.
I hope your heart breaks but that you will still choose to be soft and not hardened.
I hope we build blanket forts and stay up late reading books and telling stories.
I hope we go on adventures and invite other people to go with us.
I hope you do what you love so I can love it with you and watch you make things beautiful in your own way.
I hope you know how fiercely I love you and how proud I am to be your mom.
Love,
Mom, when she wasn't your Mom yet.
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