Thursday, August 11, 2016

Never Grow Up

One of Mommy's favorite spots in our whole house is this little wall inside Mommy and Daddy's closet.  What's on it may not seem like much to many.  It's a bit messy, a little inconsistent, and looks to most like scribble scrabble.  But what's on that wall is super precious to me.  It shows a little of Jack and a lot of Layne.  Over time it's become Mommy's favorite.

Jack has grown about four inches
in the last six months!
On that wall are the markings of Layne and Jack.  It shows how much they have grown over the last few months and, for Layne, years. It's Mommy's favorite spot because it's a concrete example of how much they have each grown.  Its pencil markings are reminders of how blessed Mommy is to watch them grow up.   I love seeing their little lines move up and up.

On that wall there's one thing missing.  You.

This time of year Mommy often hears people say they wish time could slow down, that their kids are growing too fast.  While Mommy has those moments too, more often than not, Mommy finds herself excited to see how your little brother and sister are growing up. With each milestone, Mommy sees a little of what it might have been like with you.
Layne has begun to write her
own name next to her
 marks on the wall.

In the weeks after you passed away Mommy filled much of the empty time seeking information.  At first it was answers related to what could have caused you to be taken from us so suddenly and without a cause. As time went on, deep curiosity filled Mommy's mind.  What was it like for you in Heaven?  Would anyone there know your bedtime routine or your tickle spots?  Would anyone be there to make you feel special or would you just be lost in the crowd?  And what Mommy wondered most of all, would you grow up  or stay little?

Everything Mommy learned about Heaven shared how the body is made whole again.  That everything broken would be fixed.  That disease and disability would be gone.  The old would become young again and the pain and suffering felt on earth would forever go away.  But what about the youngest? What about babies?  Would they grow up or would they stay little? Vague and unsure were the answers of most of the authors.

Here you are dancing with your cousin Cy.
Cy's in third grade this year.
This week Mommy started another school year. Mommy can already tell I have a super sweet group of twenty-six seven and eight year olds. They are bright. They are kind. They are fun to watch.  They would have been your classmates, your friends.  As the year begins, it's hard not to wonder which ones of the kids in Mommy's class might have been your good friends. It's hard to watch them play together outside and not wonder where you might have fit in. In some ways, it's hard to even imagine you being that big.
Mommy sure misses this smile. 

Five and a half years.  It makes me sad to even think of all that Mommy may have missed out on.  If Mommy could have it my way I would ask, please baby girl, never grow up.  Stay little.

While the time Mommy had with you may have been short, the love that Mommy feels stretches far greater.

Love you, miss you, think of you always Sweet Baby Girl.