“Courage is found in unlikely places.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
There is a time that exists only in my heart, where my daughter is ever the girl in the photo above. She is two there, and has been given free reign of an overgrown fairy garden, and some perfectly lovely flowerbeds. She rips the first daisy up, and I fret!

"No, no. Let her have fun, fall will be here before we know it." I cannot argue, yet I still feel the guilt.

I remember how I watched everyone bask in the glory of you covering yourself in dirt. Your silly laugh is a song in the late afternoon sun, shining in the sweat on your concentrated brow, you are boundlessly alive!

Small, wild girl. Today you are four, and you have no idea what it means to go to school. You excitedly talk to me about how you will start this year, "I'll be five soon, you know that?!" you announce, barely able to contain the thrill of that.

Yes, my love. You will be 5 this year... but you can stay 4, if you want to...
No need to rush, except I am not so old that I have forgotten. The great adventure of getting older, a list of wonders that wait just beyond the next birthday... It's like that, until suddenly it's not. A different feeling creeps into your birthday, your anticipations, your life...



You're part of what helps me face this change in myself, what makes me feel brave enough to face the things that scare me. Mothers don't falter. Right? Except there are all the times that I have, just like every other mother. An unspoken deep shame shared, simply because we do not speak up. All mothers feel less than good, sometimes.

We lose our tempers, cry when we don't want to, fail to set an example that is important to us. That is really, REALLY okay, please hear me when I tell you that. If you are a newer mother, I think the best gift an experienced mother can give you, is the knowledge of grace! There is only one of you.

Sometimes, our children can surprise us. They know more than we realize. It is my daughter who seems to catch on better than anyone when I am having a rough day, or at least I think she does, for those are the days I get the most hugs! Her empathy and tenderness leave me awestruck!


"I love you." I tell her, more times than I mean to. There are no other right words to say.

Thea, you are gentle in ways I haven't learned to be yet, or maybe have just forgotten. You want people to feel good, you help whenever you can. The simple joy in knowing you helped makes you smile, the strength in that... A repository for all the magic I want to believe in.

My childhood was one way, yours will be another. I speak it into existence some days, but it's you who leads the way. "Take a deep breath, and refocus." you say with my inflection, talking your 1.5 year-old brother through a disagreement. A toy shared intstead of grabbed.

It isn't always like that, but often it is. My perfectly strange sage-child. I planted a seed in you that grew beyond what I planned for. Now, you challenge and inspire me with my own words.

And I know, you hear more than I give you credit for. Because I used to be better at saying these things, being an example of them in practice. Lately I haven't been as steadfast, I've felt carried away in the flow of life... and you've reminded me.

Mom, it's okay. Every time we try, we get better!
You are right, of course you are. How can I come back with anything but my best now, when the greatest role model I've had is counting on me? The amazing gift of four-sight snaps me back to the reality that matters, and I try again.


All photos in this blog are my own, taken with my basic phone camera. Please do not use them without permission 🤗😁.

Have your children taught you a lesson recently? I would love to hear about it in the comments!