I’m sorry I don’t remember your name – I know we’ve met before. And I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you yesterday. I would have liked to tell you that watching you with your 14-month-old daughter made my day.
What I do know is that you’re in church with your little girl a lot of Sundays, on your own. You keep her happily occupied, and I can see that you love having that time with her. I also see some other things.
Like the fact that you hastily pulled your hair back into a pony tail so you could get yourself to church on time. I think there wasn’t time for makeup yesterday, either. Yet your adorable daughter was dressed to the nines, with her hair perfectly gathered into a bow.
I saw your attention constantly pulled between keeping your daughter happy and participating in the worship service. And I understood when attention to your little girl won out.
I watched you fuss over your little darling. Getting something out of her eye. Keeping her from eating floor Cheerios. Making sure she only ate one at a time. Handing her a tippy cup when one got stuck in her throat. Giving her toy after toy after toy. Kissing her often and whispering into her ear.
I saw myself in you, in those blessed and blissful days of being the mother of one daughter. Completely wrapped up in the joy of being her mama.
Thank you for reminding me. And for clearly enjoying your little girl as much as I enjoyed mine.