Oh, the heart of a mama bear.

It starts when our babies our young.

We long, we search, we ache to see…

The first smile wrapped in baby cheek chunkiness

The first bite of solid goo

The first wobbly step with arms outstretched

The first word spilling from slobbery baby lips.

We wait, we anticipate, we dream of…

The first day of Kindergarten 

And hang up finger paint projects with great pride

The first day of middle school

As we pray against bullies and bad hair and pimples

The first sporting event

And we wring our hands that they won’t get pummeled 

The first day of high school

Oh that they’ll keep their head on straight, their bodies in check

The first kiss

Wait… Let there not be a first kiss for a long, long while.

We long for our babies. We ache for them. We love them. They are our hearts wandering out there outside of our bodies, all vulnerable like.

We wish we could save them from every bad choice, protect them from every mean friend, shield them from sheer stupidity and the irritating consequences that follow.

But we can’t.

But we can do something. We can choose them, over and over again. In the good, in the ugly, in the admirable, in the brokenness. They are ours and we’d jump over the moon to help them see their value and future.

And as we do, so should we remember how our God views us. Our Father is a good father. He loves us. He aches for us, longs for us, dreams for us, hopes for us. And he chooses us – over and over again.

We are his heart, his image, walking around out there all vulnerable like.

Our pain, his pain. Our hurt, his hurt. Our brokenness, his sorrow.

The next time a longing wraps us up for our children, imagine the same intensity in our loving God – for us, and for our children.

Our longings are deep, his are deeper.

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