As promised, I am beginning my posts for my children. How fitting to write to my oldest daughter, Shelli, on Mother's Day, who made this day meaningful for me twenty-three years ago, and is now a mother herself. Mother's Day, 1988, was a bittersweet day. My due date had just come and gone, and there was no baby in sight. When Michelle Leigh arrived on May 24, eighteen hours after the first birth pang, I realized in awe that I had never understood selfless love before that moment in time.
Shelli, you were my dream come true. When I was asked as a youngster what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said I wanted to be a mom. My sister, Lisa, would get so frustrated with me, trying to impress on me that being a mom wasn't the only thing I could want. It was. The moment I felt your warm little body draped over my stomach and heard your tiny squeak, every dream I ever dreamed was realized. I love you simply because you are my child, but your value as a person and a young woman far surpasses that of being my daughter.
I love your passion, dear daughter. When you were a little girl, you were always the 'director' of the house. You weren't content to sit and do nothing. You took charge of your younger brothers, thought up activities and did most everything with a smile on your face. One of my favorite moments with you was when you were three. After a long night up with the stomach flu, you looked out the window of our condo and saw the most beautiful sunrise. You pointed and said, "Let's show Daddy when he gets home." The sunrise was long gone by the time your father came home after his third-shift job, but I was so struck that you saw the beauty that most toddlers wouldn't notice. You surrounded yourself with it. Whether it was shopping for pretty dresses, driving around looking at Christmas lights, or coloring a picture, you always did it with flair. May you always express your passion.
I love your heart, dear daughter. You have always been tender, even through the worst of life. Sure, you put up your walls - walls too high for me to climb or penetrate, but through the fortress window, I've always seen your lovely, tender eyes tentatively peering out at the world. I remember the day you and your friends in third grade got together to make a card for your teacher because she had no children. I was a little unsure whether it was a good idea to let you give her the card. She contacted me later on and told me your thoughtfulness and love prompted her to seek adoption. When we took in foster kids, I watched your tenderness embrace the little ones who wrapped their arms around your neck as their smiles caught your heart. Even now, though your brothers can be, well, brothers, you take the time to do little things for them that may or may not be met with appreciation. May you always have a soft heart.
I love your femininity, dear daughter. You can be counted on to shed a tear when we curl up for a sad movie, get misty-eyed hearing a beautiful song, or goosebumps watching a fashion show at the beach! May you always be a "girly-girl".
I love your honesty, dear daughter. You have had some very deep joys and hurts along the way, but you don't back down when you need to express yourself. Years ago, that honesty was a piercing light shining in the corners I would have rather kept dark, and we had our moments, didn't we? Your same truthfulness was what brought us closer than I could have imagined when you sat by my bed the night after I gave birth to your baby sister, and told me why you had shut me out of your life for so long. You were brave, showing your hurt and your pain, and only then could I tell you how sorry I was for my words and actions that pushed you away. May you always be honest.
I love your determination, dear daughter. You have had some daunting setbacks and gut-wrenching twists and turns in your life, from a broken family, to cancer, to bringing your own baby into the world in one of the worst winter storms of the year, and having to work each day to keep him safe, warm, dry and fed. You have shown that you are willing to do whatever it takes to be a mother he can count on. May you always be motivated to press on.
If I never had another chance to talk to you, to be your cheerleader, to speak to your heart, here's what I would say...
The same God who created you loves you more than anyone else ever could. The most satisfying relationship there is, is one with Him. Talk to Him about anything and everything. Trust Him to always give you the best - even when His best makes no sense. Don't let anyone judge you for something you've already made right with God. Show love to everyone, no matter how much you think they don't deserve it. Forgive - always. When you mess up, get back on track and forgive yourself. Remember that the years spent loving others is never wasted. Just when you think your baby will never grow up, he will. You did. You will miss the lazy mornings when he just wants to lay his head on your chest and cuddle. Trust me on that one! More than anything, I love you. I always have and I always will.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your path. (Prov. 3:5, 6).
