It is a fairytale.
Not the kind of hallmark movies or a Nicholas Sparks novels.
It’s our heavenly father’s version of happily ever after.
A fairytale born out of stretching and growing, missteps and heartache. Building blocks on a journey that brought us to this day.
No glass slippers, just a belief that a desire born of the heart was God’s whisper; his calling that marriage was a part of his plan for us.
Sometimes a momma’s heart just hurts.
There are things she cannot fix with kisses or hugs.
Little girls growing pains, stretching that at times feels unbearable.
The urge as a parent is to fix it, yet fixing isn’t what she asks of me.
I listen and hold back the words, refrain from spewing all sorts of advice. And in the holding back learn that parenting is sometimes best done in silence.
This transition from child to young adult is about learning to sift through the quicksands of life on one’s own.
So I will sit, make up excuses to take her for morning coffee and steal hugs when she passes me in the hall. This time I cannot make it all o.k. but I can hold the hurt in my hands and blanket her in love.