This Is Your Daughter Speaking

Hi Mom.

I can tell you’re a little surprised to see me here.

Perhaps that’s because, until now, you thought I could only do two things: eat and cry. Or perhaps you’re surprised I followed you here, since lately I seem interested in anything except what you say and do. Or perhaps you even thought I’d forgotten about you, all the way out there in “the real world”.

Well, no matter what you’re thinking, I want to share a few things with you.

First of all, I do hear you.

It may seem like I’m not listening, but I am picking up so much. It is true that there are times when your instructions run right through my ears, but I always hear you say, “I love you.” I always hear you say, “I’m proud of you.”

Oh, and I always hear you when you say, “I’m disappointed in you,” but I know that this doesn’t change your love for me.

I hear you sing the Winnie-The-Pooh theme song 468 times in the car just so I won’t cry and in the middle of the grocery store (even though everyone stares at you).

I hear you praying silently for me when I’m already up on stage, in costume and can’t remember a single line (even though you told me I should practice them).

I hear you calling to make sure everything’s lined up for play dates and dentist appointments and to see if I got there safely, because I forgot to call when I arrived…again.

I hear you sigh at the end of a long day and tell Dad that you sometimes wonder if you’re getting through at all.

Well, you are.

Secondly, I am watching you.

Though sometimes I act like I don’t care, I am watching you. I’m watching you work hard to take care of our family and when you read your Bible late at night after you think we’re all in bed. I’m watching when you run your fingers through your hair and look up to heaven, straight through the laundry room ceiling, as if to say, “All this and laundry too, Lord?”

I’m watching you check the rearview mirror a hundred times to make sure that yes, I’m still in the car, safely buckled in. I’m watching you check my temperature with a thermometer and, not satisfied; check it with the back of your hand.

I’m watching when you greet dad at the door and when you let him make the final decision (even though you’re right). I’m watching when you pay stacks of bills and check price tags and put off dreams.

I’m watching when you almost tell me that what I’m wearing is weird and my haircut does not make me look older, but I’m also watching when you smile and tell me that I am a beautiful no matter what.

I see it, Mom.

Third, I was God’s daughter first.

Even if I sometimes seem to be far from heavenly, remember that I am a child of God. The whole time I was kicking and flipping and growing inside of you, He was knitting me together.

When you held me for the first time and wondered if you were going to be a good mom, when you packed my backpack for Kindergarten and wondered if you’d been a good teacher, when you watched me speed off down the road and wondered how you were ever going to protect me now, God was in control.

You’re not alone, you’re not a failure and to me, you’re everything.

Thanks Mom.

Love,

Your Daughter

{Everly Pleasant of Clickety-Clack}