I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why it is, but I do know that there is a deep, tricky, treacherous, wonderful, scary, beautiful bond that happens between a mother and her daughter.
I know, intellectually, that this same bond occurs with a Dad and his son(s), but since I am not male, I don’t have much authority on the matter. 🙂
Most of my readers are female. That means you are a daughter in some way, shape, or form. And I bet you know exactly how you feel about your mom. And if you have a daughter or child, you know exactly what you want to do the same, and exactly what you will do differently. The privilege of being a parent to someone is a very fragile thing…
Am I speaking the truth?
I meet with lots of different women throughout my days, and there is a predominant and profound topic that always seems to creep into the conversation. The bond, or lack thereof, between a Mamma and her baby Girl(s).
You might know that I have a utterly captivating 9 year old girl (as well as a 12 year old dude that I adore). And you might know, if you are ever around us, that she really likes me. The son loves me, but the daughter.. it’s almost as if there is this invisible thread that ties us together in the most fascinating way. My son has that same thread with his Dad.
It is weird and scary and wonderful and scary to have such devotion from one single person. As I type this out, tears well up in my eyes.
Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid of hurting her.
I’m afraid of disappointing her.
I’m afraid of not loving her well enough.
Most of all, I’m afraid of messing her up. Passing down my struggles/flaws/sins/insecurities.. I have a lot of them. The good news? God has healed me from my shameful past and I am no longer worried about needing to hide my mess from people. I find great relief in being able to be my authentic self with my inner circle. That includes my kiddos. When I mess up, they are fortunate? enough to endure a little (read loooong) talk with Mom, about my mess ups, and my apologies, and my let’s do better’s. Poor things.. I start to wrap it up when I see their beautiful blue eyes glaze over a bit. 😉
Thank goodness we have a savior named Jesus, who is also called Redeemer. When I get overwhelmed by the gravity of being a mom, I remember Who gave these children to me. And I remember His promises of redemption and healing and grace. And I hold on to those promises tightly on the hard days.
I have come to understand that no relationship, here on earth, can be perfect. It isn’t meant to be. If we had perfection down here, what would we need/long/crave heaven for? I have to remind myself that my Little Miss and I will have our up’s and down’s, mixed in with lots of snuggles and cooking lessons, and painting nails and back rubs, and drama and emotion, and love. Lots and lots of love.
And prayer. Daily prayer to my Father… asking Him for massive wisdom in my raising of these little humans He has lovingly blessed me with.
She delights me, even while her love for me seems so outrageous. I don’t deserve it, but I have been gifted with it. Lord Jesus, help me.
