Daddy and I took you to a new church yesterday, a church full of families and young adults and kids, and we tenderly but tentatively dropped you off in the nursery downstairs, hopeful that you might play with and enjoy being around other 16 month olds in a room full of toys. We slipped away while you weren't looking and we held each other's hand as we walked to the sanctuary. It is hard on us to be without you for any length of time, especially in a new church in a new city.
We sang a few songs and smiled at each other, knowing smiles of "we're doing the right thing, right?" and then sat down to pray. And then our pager went off. You were calling for us. Daddy and I both wanted to run to you, but he slipped out first; it didn't take long for me to follow him. And on this Sunday, we found ourselves in the basement of a new church, huddled together in the "Walkers' Room," once again a family.
On this, your 16 month birthday, I want you to know that you are our miracle. I feel closest to God not when I am sitting in a sanctuary but when I am holding you in my arms--or when you hold me in yours. You are a walking fool these days, eager to explore and discover grass and new people and books and animals and the drifting leaf falling to the ground in front of you. New York City is abuzz all around you, and yet you stop and focus on the singular leaf and cause me to stop and focus on the unique you and marvel that you are mine. I can't imagine loving anything more than I love you and yet I know I will love you even more tomorrow than I do today. How can that be? How does it really keep getting better and better?
You love water and riding on Daddy's shoulders and swinging in the park and eating Absolute Bagels. I love YOU. I love every moment with you, especially when you smile at me and nuzzle your face into my neck on a crowded subway or when you giggle uncontrollably when the bubble maker comes out at library story time or when you run to greet me when I open the door after tutoring for a few hours. I love smelling your hair post-bath, I love picking you up out of the crib first thing in the morning when you are still a little dazed, I love watching you play with other kids and study their movements like they study yours.
And selfishly, I loved the moment when the pager went off. It was as if you were saying, "Wait a second, where did you go? Mommy and Daddy, we can explore, but we explore TOGETHER." Amen, buddy. There are lots of cool museums and playgrounds and stores and neighborhoods to see in our new home, but what matters most to your Daddy and me is enjoying all that is YOU. Sure, I know eventually I will need to let you explore on your own, and perhaps one day you might not even want me to adventure along beside you, but for now, you love to walk on your own...as long as we are nearby. And nearby is where I will stay. Forever. You are my heart walking around outside my body.
I love you,
Mama
**A dear friend of mine and former colleague, David Cook, writes a weekly column in the Chattanooga paper. Today's column is a letter to his daughter. It's a beautiful tribute to a sweet little girl--and a testament to the forever love David has for her. I highly recommend it.
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