the feeblest agent

Little One,

I won’t ask for much.

But maybe, one day, you’ll see what I saw.
Maybe you’ll see the purity that always glowed in your eyes, whether open wide in an awestruck wonder, or brimming with tears at some injustice.
The way everything ‘round you blurred out of focus and into a colorful tunnel of wisterias every time I saw you coming to me.
You will always be my sole focus in the world’s vast array of colors.
The love that emanated so powerfully you could almost hear it the very first time your tiny hand clasped my finger -- and how, your whole life long, that love only grew.

The set jaw on your determined young face as you reached for unknown things -- the hated vegetable on your plate, the handlebars of a bike without training wheels.


The all-encompassing joy that wraps around a mother’s heart and squeezes tight when her little one chooses right.
The burning, unconditional love that somehow always manages to glow right through her anger when he chooses wrong.

Maybe one day you’ll see the angels.

Not everyone could see them as they sang around you in glorious throngs.

Oh, how they sang!....when you saw the Light.
When you rejected the bondage of Sin.
When you accepted the freedom of Christ.
Not everyone saw the angels.
But everyone saw the new you.

And you -- new or faded, rich or tainted, kind or cruel, wise man or fool....

You will always be mine, perfect and complete -- my precious child.
And maybe one day, you’ll see the miracle I saw.

The Miracle of you.

All my love,
Momma