I cried when it came on the radio again tonight.
I wonder if I always will.
It was the anthem of our time together, Little One, the drum-beat that I hope somehow made its way deep into your bones. Deep into your heart.
How he loves us. Oh, how he loves us. Oh, how he loves.
Day and night, rocking and walking and snuggling, I sang you all kinds of songs about Jesus, but always this one. It was ours.
I chose this one on purpose, Little One, not because it is my favorite song of all time, but because if there is one thing I want you to know, one thing I want you to remember, it is this.
He loves you.
I miss you, Little One. The way you rubbed your face back and forth against my body when you were tired. The way you quieted in my arms– your heartbeat, your breath synching with my own.
I love you, Little One. I fell hard and fast the moment that I met you, the moment that I first held you—tentative because you were so, so tiny, the moment that I kissed your head and it all felt like pretend.
In my mind, our time together was too short, but my mama-heart knows that for your mama, it was so very long. And for you, Little One, it was just a blink that, if all goes well, your conscious mind will never even remember.
I hope I helped you learn that the world is safe.
I hope I helped you learn that someone comes when you cry.
I hope I helped you learn that mamas can be trusted.
I hope I helped you learn what it feels like to be loved, treasured, cherished.
You were never mine, Little One, in the same way that even my own daughter isn’t mine.
You were made for Him.
You are His.
Know this, Little One, if you remember nothing else.
As much as I love you, as much as your mama loves you, he loves you more.
How he loves you. Oh, how he loves you. Oh, how he loves.