Dear child for whom I pray,
Do you know the depths of my heart’s longing to be your mother?
I have dreamed of you since I myself was a young girl, playing “house” with my dolls, pretending they were my very own baby. A girl of just 2 or 3 years old, I often clung to my dolly, as if there was something hidden away in the corner of my being, calling me to motherhood. Twenty-five years later and that calling feels like a desperate plea.
To the best of my ability I nurtured my own mother when she was sick on the couch with another one of her debilitating migraines. I bossed around my little sister and tended to her needs even when she’d rather do it on her own. Perhaps it was my firstborn placement in the family, my lineage of being Type A, or even a God-given leadership ability in the seedling stage, but my instincts are to care and provide for others.
Here I am in my 5th year of youth ministry and I know I have many, many children. I love each of them deeply, but someday I hope I can know the love only a mother can have for her own.
For now, I make you, my dear sweet child, the recipient of my blog writing. I want to share with you my favorite recipes, advice for how to be a teenager in this crazy mixed up world, what fun your dad and I have on vacations, and so much more. I pray my letters will be read by you one day, but for now they will serve to soothe my ache and bring joy, laughter, and encouragement to anyone else who happens upon them.