“i could not love him more.”

Yesterday, Henry beat a video game that even Travis couldn’t beat.

I was asleep when it happened.  Because, you know, I’m a million months pregnant and that can get exhausting.

I know that Henry beat the game, not because HE told me but because my deliriously-proud husband came bouncing in the bedroom, down right gleaming about his son’s accomplishment.

“I could not love him more.”

Those were the exact words.

I laid there, still drowsy and listened as this proud daddy went on and on about his son.  All I could do was smile, feeling abundant love for my husband because of his abundant love for our children.  We share stories like this all the time.  About how Clara walked up to Travis’ truck last week, placed her fingers along the words, “Toyota Tacoma,” and very slowly “read” out, “Daaaa-ddy’s Truck.  DADDY’S TRUCK!!  That’s what it say, Mama!!  That’s what it SAY!”  Or about how Henry has earned 78 stars (towards his needed 100) on his reading chart and all he wants is a set of Legos “but not the easy ones, the hard ones.”  Or how they’ll play so nicely together and invite one another to their “birthday parties,” which we celebrate nearly every day.

As parents, we can’t help but dote on those kids.  Oh my word, they can be annoying sometimes.  And loud.  And messy.  And inconvenient.  I can say all those things about them and still know that I couldn’t DO this life without them.  And not just any kids but Henry Cole Wright and Clara Kathleen Wright – those exact ones.  They’re mine.  I grew them.  I see bits and pieces of myself, of Travis, in them.

And God made me to be their mama.  Me!?!

Every tool I need to parent them in exactly the way that they need to be parented….God placed IN me.  FOR THEM.  He gives me peace.  He gives me patience.  He provides me with wisdom and strength and a mama bear-like passion.  Oh!  And He gives me rest when I need it.

For these things, for this PRIVELEGE, I can only say, “I could not love Him more.”*

———–

splendid…lindsay

*And also “thank you.”  I say that a lot too.  Because we use our “man-yors” around here.