Dear Me: Honest Memoirs on Motherhood, Christine

I’ll be honest, I was smitten with Christine on Instagram the moment I stumbled across her profile.  Little did I know that our Insta friendship, would unleash a beautiful story of our Father’s love…and I’m so blessed to have her share it here.  

Dear Me,

I write this letter from a place I know you have not at all envisioned… a home, of your own, filled with two small boys and a loving husband and heaps of all-enduring love. Then again, I know you likely have envisioned this life… but something inside you whispers that it could never be yours to hold. “You’re not good enough… who could ever truly love you?”. *Sigh* Oh, I remember you… the girl always seeking approval. I bet right now you’re going to some pretty extreme lengths to gain it. You don’t really eat, do you? I know. And if you do, you don’t keep it down for long. You’re exhausted. And lonely. And you think that boy you’ve had a crush on since fourth grade is to blame. He’s said some pretty hurtful things to you, over and over again… and I know he’s not the only one. Oh… they aren’t to blame though. Something inside you is broken. And no outward fix could ever mend it. You’ve had your heart shattered… more than once. And I should tell you now… you’re not going to marry him (or him, or him) and as hard as that may be to swallow, in a few years you’ll be glad you didn’t. There’s someone else out there… and he’s going to find you, and pursue you, and cherish you, and give you kisses that sink down deep into your soul. He’s going to lay beside you every night and hold you, and your head is going to rest warmly on his chest whenever you need a place to cry.  And he will tell you you’re beautiful and that you’re forever his “only”… every single day. This is your husband, the one God so sovereignly and graciously designed just for you. I know it seems pretty far-fetched right now though, doesn’t it? Oh, but just wait…


Pretty soon you’re going to experience the greatest altering of your lifetime… an encounter with the One who fashioned you together in your mother’s womb. You’re going to learn what He says about you… and it’s going to take some time for you to believe it. But you will believe it. And I promise it won’t always be so hard. Your heart is going to soften, and you’re going to trust that your identity isn’t found in whether or not you’ve got the perfect body, or a boyfriend to cling to, or the ideal set of friends; but rather in the God of the universe, who loves you, and designed you uniquely for a purpose all your own.

You’re going to find that your purpose is quite different than you imagined though. You thought you were meant to be a nurse. Or maybe a teacher, or a singer, or a writer, or a photographer. Oh… you don’t become any of those things though. Rather, you become all of them. You’re a mother. And a darn strong one at that. Every talent, quality and craft you hold inside will blossom and be used here in this gloriously ordinary role.


You’re going to learn to appreciate your body in a fresh way. You’ll watch as two little boys grow inside it… and you’ll traverse through the single most physically demanding journey:: childbirth… naturally (!!), twice. And nothing will prepare you for the the beauty found in that first devine moment when your newborn babe rests on your chest. Your world is going to be entirely shifted, with a gleaning of love anew to harvest. You’ll gaze in wonder at the way your two boys have grown, purely from the nourishment your body had to offer them.

You’ve grown a lot in character since becoming a mother. You’re more patient, and quick to listen, and wiser with your words. And you’re learning the art of being still… giving your body and your mind the true rest it craves whenever you can. You watch less t.v. and read more books. You journal… a lot; your mind is still that same fiery, itchy sort. You pray more and you worry less. You’re more vulnerable… I suppose this letter serves as proof of that. You crave transparency. And you’re much more humble. You’re a helper, down to your core… always looking to meet the needs of others before your own. Those small boys of yours are teaching you the skill of sacrifice in a way you never could imagine.

Oh… don’t misread this letter though; you’re still far from perfect. You fail your children in some way at least once each day. They are quick to forgive you though… even when you are slow to admit you were wrong. They love you, wholly… like they’ll never love anyone else in their lifetime. You’re their Mama, after all… and this bond you share exclusively will withstand any storm. Their tenderness will soothe you on the hardest of days. You’ll become accustom to the feel of their infant heads resting upon you. You’ll learn what it means to weep alongside them when they are in pain. And comforting them will feel as natural as breathing to you. True, they’ll be quite demanding at times; extracting every ounce of energy from you until at the end of the day you’re left with no portion of your own to hold. But, there’s always tomorrow… and you will wake alongside a husband whispering, “I love you” as a little boy’s voice calls from his crib, “Mama… Mama…”. And you’ll take a deep breath, and close your eyes, and remember how far your heart has journeyed to get here. And in that moment you’ll find your strength renewed, knowing deep within your soul… you were undeniably made for this.





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