It’s something I don’t say nearly enough. But I am. I’m proud of my three little ones for so many little things lately. For trying new things. For doing what someone else wants to do. For asking for help when it’s hard. For choosing to be kind. For acting out their new ideas. For expressing themselves well and making their point — even when the one they’re trying to convince is Mommy. For working hard. For helping out. For growing and learning and sticking together. For so many little things.

I’ve been writing these “letters” to my daughter (and my sons too) for a few weeks now, and I’m enjoying having a theme for my practice in painting and lettering. I started out showing the “pictures” to Baby Girl. Not every day, but as I remembered. And, now every so often, she asks me, “did you paint today?” It means a lot to me for her to know that I’m thinking about her and creating something for her. And, I’ve been able to show some to the boys and let them know, “this is for you — and Baby Girl.” They sometimes recognize the circumstances that prompted the messages, and sometimes they recognize them for what they are — just Mommy being crazy again. As I look inside at my own process, I realize that this is a treasured exercise. It can’t help but be intentional because I have to think about what to paint. Sometimes it’s spontaneous, and sometimes I’ve recognized in the thick of an experience or conversation with the children that a thought should become a “letter.” Some days, like today, have started more as a chore. Like all habits you’re trying to form, some days you begin just because you said you would or because some little soul might ask you about it later.

Today, I wanted to paint “I’m so glad God gave you to me.” Because I am. I’m eternally grateful. But I couldn’t paint it today because I’m so mindful that sometimes people long for the gift of children they don’t have. Sometimes, I imagine it’s hard to hear about daughters. Today, my gratitude for the exquisite privilege of being mother to these little loves is mixed with the burden of sorrow for friends who are working through the heartbreak of losing that opportunity. And this letter came to mind. It’s a letter of truth. Of my own experiences in different ways. And, a letter in waiting for a time one day when I’ll want to share it with my Baby Girl. When the story didn’t end in the way she’d hoped. When she’ll need to see for herself how a loving God draws near to the broken hearted.