The other night my seven year old Samuel came into my room, touched my head, announced that I felt warm and decided to take care of me. He got water, tucked my covers, went into his room and grabbed a blanket. When I asked him what he was doing he told me
I’m being here for you. I love you.
And he sat on the floor in that cocoon of blankets until sleepiness hit and then he crawled into bed with me. As his head rested on my shoulder I thought about how he loves well.
He loves well.
And mommas we are the ones that teach them to love well.
We are the ones that they see getting up in the middle of the night for them. We are the ones who rock them and brush hair from their eyes. We are the ones making dinners from pantries that are bare. We are the ones walking into schools and fighting for them. We are the ones cheering from the sidelines and on our knees in prayers. We are the ones who don’t quit on them. We are the ones.
We love well.
We just forget.
I forget so often. I look at my to-do list and all that is left to do and I give myself a grade too low. I remember all the times I got impatient. I think about all the things I wish I had done. I regret all the times I lost my cool.
And I miss all the times I have loved well.
I don’t want you to do that, sweet mom.
I don’t want you to put your head on your pillow tonight thinking that it was a failure of a day. I don’t want you to doubt you. I want you to see that when you mother and when you give – you love well.
That is how we teach our children to love well.
It’s not in stuff.
It’s not in trips.
It’s in us.
Showing up, day after day after day after day. When we’re exhausted and tired and joyful and worried and wondering if we are enough. You love well.
Don’t doubt it anymore.
In fact, continue loving well.
And you will teach your children the same.