Momma's Invitation

My dear children,

Oh, this is new to me, this using technology to reflect who I am. But this is not new: my love for our children. Even now, it is tempting to fall into the norm of saying "my children", but I determined when I married to always acknowledge that our sons and daughters would never be solely mine, that your dad shared just as much in your creation as I did and so I would forever keep in mind I did not possess you.

Now. What is the purpose of this blog? Only to keep up with you--hopefully. I know that you older ones (the only ones to whom this blog is available) have flown the nest, embarking on lives of your own. I must admit I look on your soaring with sincere adventure for you and profound grief for me. It is not that I don't wish for you all good things; it is that our relationship, the one I share individually with each one of you, forever changed when you fluttered your wings. True, that is good in some ways. But, as your mother, I so very much enjoyed the days when your chubby faces looked into mine--the one with early morning sleepiness, no make-up, framed by mussed-up locks--and you smiled with not a care in the world what I looked like. You trusted me entirely and, oh, did we share good times. When the work was hard--and it was hard--I would look at you and know all my efforts were worthwhile because you were worthwhile. Looking at you, I stared eternity in the face, seeing my own lineage in flesh and blood, pondering with revelational awe that through you, Dad and I would live on.

Now, you go and fly off. Doggone you. I had so hoped that as you grew, our relationship would flux with the times. Sometimes it did. Often it didn't. And now, regretfully for me, I must wait for you. You, in growing up, have rightfully formed relationships outside the family circle, outside of even my knowledge. I am glad for you. (I have friends, too, you know.)

But I wait for you. Always, I wait for you. This time in history is tornadoed with an incredible pace and cultural expectations I do not like. I don't like them at all. Even at my age, with all my experience in living, I simply cannot keep up. And, really, I don't want to.

Instead, I want to know you, and I want to know you well. Relationships take time and effort--a regular meeting in some way. Your lives are scheduled somewhat, with your own pursuits. So is mine. But I miss you desperately. And I miss seeing who you have become.

So, I invite you to be with me via this blog. Truly, I do extend an invitation. I know you may not RSVP. But I do have "thoughts I think toward you" and writing may come easier than talking.

I love you.

Momma