Sunday Reflections
While Eliza dozed off in my arms last night I was reflecting on my love for her and how I am so grateful Heavenly Father gave her to us. I am so grateful to have the chance to be her mother. I love wearing throw-up, spit-up on my clothes, I love changing those diapers, wiping away tears, suctioning out the boggery nose, washing poopey clothes, feeling her sweat collect as she lays in my arms on the warm summer days. Better yet I love the smiles, the squeals, the laughs, the times she wants to cuddle, the times she just stares at me while I sing to her, watching her reach her milestones. I love it all!
This quote sums up the way I feel about mommyhood perfectly. I will add that I want to arrive to heaven with spit-up and sticky finger prints from little hands on my shirt (as well as everything Sister Hinckley said) so the Lord knows I have raised the child He blessed me with with love and in happiness. So He knows I have played with her, feed her, taught her, nurtured her, loved her. I may arrive there tired too so hopefully there is a nice huge fluffy bed waiting for me! JK
This quote sums up the way I feel about mommyhood perfectly. I will add that I want to arrive to heaven with spit-up and sticky finger prints from little hands on my shirt (as well as everything Sister Hinckley said) so the Lord knows I have raised the child He blessed me with with love and in happiness. So He knows I have played with her, feed her, taught her, nurtured her, loved her. I may arrive there tired too so hopefully there is a nice huge fluffy bed waiting for me! JK
“I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” Marjorie Peay Hinckley