on being your harbor

“Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a MOTHER ❤️.” -Danielle Nesbit Silva  *

Sweet Child of Mine, who is not really mine, yet absolutely is all at the same time,

It was not me who labored to bring you into this world, but I do labor each day in an attempt to make this world more beautiful for you, and you more beautiful for this world.

It is the greatest honor of my life, to be trusted by God to Mother you & the others He’s entrusted to me. I remember how that word used to scare me so, the weight of it, thrown onto me by the little girls who came before you. Mami. I told them not to call me that, but they wouldn’t stop, and so after awhile I settled into a different kind of life, a different way of being, under the beautiful weight of this tremendous honor.

You wouldn’t stop either, you wouldn’t stop chasing after me, inviting me to love you as my own. I will remember always the first time you grabbed my face between your tiny hands to exclaim to me, “Tú eres mi Mami!

You are my Mommy!

Oh Sweet Child, there are those who think of you as the Lucky One, the Blessed One… to have been rescued from a more difficult kind of life, to be cared for now so lovingly, but I know the truth. I am the Lucky One. I know the truth. You bring more to my life than I bring to yours.

You’ve fallen again, crashed into something as you run wildly around in your Little Boy Joy. Your cry alights bright in my heart a fierce need to protect you, to comfort you, but before I reach you there you are reaching for me. We find the ice, or the band-aids, or a song to sing… and as your cry dissolves into my shoulder I always end up thinking the same thing:

“Oh Baby Boy, it is such an honor to be your safe place.”

Over & over again those are the words to run through my mind. When we’re out walking and stranger dogs approach, and you quickly run back to hide yourself behind me. When the other children have left you outside alone to play, and you run to the door, pounding & crying, rushing again into my arms where your fear dissipates. When once again you’ve fallen with your bicycle, your legs trapped beneath it, you cry & call for me because you know I’ll come running to rescue you. When another child has bullied you, your hand finds mine because you know you’ll find comfort there. Over & over again these are the words to run through my mind: I am your safe place.

My hope is that one day, one day you’ll be able to recognize your Abba Father as your true safe place. That it will be God you go running to first when the world has been cruel. But for now, it is my labor to show you what a safe place is, it is my labor to give you glimpses of that MotherFather heart of God, it is my labor to impress upon your heart the truth that God is with you, always always always.

I kiss your forehead and you say with your silly little smile, “Gracias Mami!” And the weight of that word scares me still, it is a tremendous & holy responsibility, to be your Mommy. To be your safe place, to be a woman God has given to you to share with you His very heart, Her very Love. It’s a scary word, but it’s a beautiful word… & it will forever be my greatest honor, my greatest joy, to have been for you & for the others God has given to me: Mami.

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* I know this quote, said by a beautiful friend of mine, doesn’t apply to all women, I know not all of us desire to be Mothers. But it does apply to me, & that’s why I’ve included it.

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