You brushed up against me in the kitchen last night, when you were browning hamburger and I was chopping garden radishes.
Right then, I remembered all the times we’ve melted into each other over your eleven years on earth: in the nursery rocker; nestled in your tiny hospital bed that week when you were so sick; in a dark movie theatre when our hands reached for the same box of Milk Duds; on a shore in Haiti, with our legs stretched out together, while we watched the moon rise over the sea; countless nights under your quilt, debating who loved who more. (All the way to Jupiter and back, babe.)
You always seemed so small next to me.
But now? I turn around, and you are this little woman at the stove, stirring. The steam rose from a boiling pot on the stovetop; you swiped your forehead with the back of your hand.
You asked for the salt, and your voice was so small, and I think that’s God’s way of making this growing-up thing easier on a mama. He’s kept your voice little, to let me know that you’re still my baby. I handed you the salt shaker, and I kept my mouth shut, because you might have rolled your eyes if I said then what I’m going to tell you now:
(Read the rest of this letter, and Lydia’s written response, by clicking over here at The High Calling…)
So, what’s your Story? A #TellHisStory is any story that connects your story into the story of God.
For details on the #TellHisStory linkup, click here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/. Be sure to find someone (or two) in the link-up to encourage with a comment. Come back on Friday to visit our Featured #TellHisStory, in the sidebar.
Your words matter to God. They matter to people. And they matter to me!