An Apology

I would like to apologize to my mom. I'm sorry for all the times that I did not listen to you. I'm sorry for all the times when I embarrassed you in public. I'm sorry that I sometimes I avoided being with you or said mean things to you. I'm sorry for sometimes running out of the house in a huff and not telling you where I was going. I'm sorry for the time I poked wholes in wall with my baton. I'm sorry for wrecking your car. And if I ever wrote on your furniture with markers, I am really, really sorry (now I know how frustrating that is!)

In my defense, I never fully understood how deep a mother's love is until I became a mother myself. Last week I was reminded of how very, very much I love my kids. Then it occurred to me that you probably love me in the same way. Wow! I've always known that you love me. You made a point of telling that you loved us every single day and I haven't forgotten. I just never realized how deeply you love me until now.

So, thank you for all the ways you have shown your love. Thank you for the times you let me eat the last Dilly Bar. Thank you for buying me nice dresses for special occassions. Thank you for putting up with me when I was angry, frustrated, grumpy, sad or just plain silly. Thank you for buying me the little trophy at the pageant. Thank you for painting over the football wallpaper in my bedroom with pretty shades of blue that matched my bedspread. Thank you for driving me to summer camp, college and other far off places. Thank you for letting us back track two hours when I left my purse in a restaurant on vacation. And thanks for understanding how important that was to me at the time. Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick. Thank you for always supporting and encouraging me. Thank you for not being completely perfect. It gives me hope that my kids will turn out okay, too. Thank you for loving me so well. Thank you for teaching me to love. You're a great mom and I love you.

I'm an Artist!

Like many kids, Josiah enjoys drawing and coloring. His bedroom walls are quickly filling with the fruit of his crayons, markers and creativity. Yesterday he drew a picture and then proudly proclaimed, "I'm an artist! I once was a little boy, but then I drew and drew some more and now I am an artist. I don't wear an artist hat though. I may only be a little boy, but my art is big!"

Oh to have his confidence. We talked briefly about how everyone in our family is an artist (Papa is an author, Mommy sings and Elijah's at least learning to draw), but I would never describe myself as an artist to someone else. I might say that I enjoy singing and that I like stamping my own cards, but to call myself an artist would seem like a stretch. And yet, in many ways, I am an artist. We all are in one way or another.

Later in the day I was working on stamping some cards and Josiah asked to help. I'm a little too protective of my own creative works to let him help with my cards, so I put him to work creating his own cards. He observed different techniques I used and wanted to try them all. I had to work on my sharing skills since my stamping supplies are more expensive than his, but we worked things out pretty well. He particularly enjoyed making Transformers "postage" stamps for use on future letters.

Our art may not be displayed outside our mother's homes, but Josiah and I are both artists, even if one of us is reluctant to admit it.