How I Want to be Remembered As a Mother

I think about this alot - about how I want my children to remember me. I know that might seem weird since I'm only just shy of 6 years in, but it helps me to keep a big picture perspective of my legacy and the great responsibilty my role is in their lives. 

I think about how I hope they remember me having fun. Getting down on their level. Belly laughing. Tickling them til they can't breathe. Getting up from my desk when they asked me to do a puzzle together. 

I hope they remember me laying in bed with them at night and really trying to hear their hearts. I hope they remember feeling safe and free to be themselves. I hope they remember me apologizing to them when I was short and unkind. 

I hope they remember me going the extra mile to make their world brighter. The pancakes with sprinkles on a Tuesday. Their names written in Jell-O. Picnics with their favorite foods. Dropping everything and heading to the park. I hope they remember our ordinary days with a bit of magic in them. 

I hope they remember me loving their Daddy something fierce. Being excited when he walks through the door after work. I hope they remember us kissing. And that my respect for him is something they look for in a future wife. 

I hope they remember me in front of my Bible. Praying together for big things and for little things. Singing my little heart out in church, albeit off tune. I hope they remember me with a strength that could only come from relying on Him for our daily needs.

I hope they remember me serving people around our dining table. Gladly opening our doors, and often. I hope they remember playing with new kids because I invited their mom over for coffee. I hope they remember me loving other people well. 

And oh how I want them to remember me delighting in them. Truly thankful to be their mother. Tracing their faces and trying my hardest to etch their sweet baby faces into my memory. Kissing them more times than they can count in one day. A love so deep and so secure that follows them their whole life long.

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For Mother's Day every year, Josh gives me the gift of pictures of me with my babies. And this year my request was for candid, unposed photos with no begging for smiles or bribing with candy. Just us in whatever we were doing. So he brought the camera along as the boys picked out flowers for me at a local nursery. 

Such a gift, indeed.

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