I recall that day when she was ripped and torn from me and entered with swollen limbs and checks into this world. How marvelous that feeling: That I was the one granted to be her first home. And, now she was here.
We both entered in on this journey together. I, clumsily falling, yet learning, step after step, and she was none the wiser. It was She that gave me motherhood. And it was She that trusted.
But now, I worry that I am failing her. That all of my shortcomings and inadequacies will finally catch up and find themselves resting in her.
Interrogating myself. Forgetting to dispute the irrationality of the whole mess.
Failing to trust.
The common theme that has surfaced throughout my entire Lent.
And now that we are on the other side– these 50 days of Easter–I hope that He will allow for me to see what Her past seven years have been trying to profess.
Hopefully, I will be wise enough to pay attention so that the next 7 years can be even more abundant than the last.