I Choose You

Dear Sabrina Banana,

When I was a kid, I had a friend named K. K was pretty, she was always neat, she spoke well (and clearly), she was responsible, she went home from school with her hair, uniform, and bag all fixed neatly and perfectly, she was also smart and got amazing grades (she graduated Valedictorian from her grade school and high school). Gramma would always say "Look at K...". I resented that. I know now that what she was saying is "Honey, you have every thing and more to achieve what K is achieving...but you're not even trying"; but at that time what I was hearing was "I wish you were K" or maybe "I wish K were my daughter instead".  That didn't feel good.

As a mom, I see those interactions differently. I know that no imperfection of mine would make my mom think less of me. I know that she would never ever wish I were someone else.  I am loved. But that love meant that she cannot allow me to stay in a state that was less than my best. That love meant that it hurts for her to see me live and act so far below my potential. Yes, it hurt her. 

I feel the same about you. I see you. I see the things you are amazing at. I see your struggles. I see the times when you are not even bothering to try. I see when you are doing just enough to get by. I see when you are not giving it your best. I see when you don't want to try out of fear. I see it all. Sometimes it frustrates me, sometimes it saddens me. But all the time, the love is constant. All the time I am happy you are my daughter. All the time, I would choose you over every one else. 

Love, 

Momma

To The Daughter I Didn't Know I Wanted

Dear Sabrina Banana,

       It's been a while since I last wrote you a letter.  It may be because I've been so busy. Or maybe it's because I find that I am now able to talk to you directly. I started this blog because I had this great fear of dying when you were very young and you not knowing about me or worse, you not knowing how much I loved you.  Throughout the years I feel more secure in the thought that you will know and remember me and that you are secure in my love for you. I hope I am right in both assumptions.

I write this as you and Dad are watching a chorale concert. I refused to join for 2 reasons. First, the thought itself bores me to death. Second, whenever there's a chance for you to bond with your dad...I try to give way so you guys can have your time together. So anyway, back to this concert. I am so surprised that you asked dad if you could watch this.  I've come to realize that being your mom is God's way of constantly surprising me. It's His way of reminding me "My ways are better than your ways..."-- He is, of course, right.

I had different ideas about motherhood you know. The time you were conceived, your gender, your interests, your attitude...I had specific ideas of what I thought I wanted in my child. I thank God every day that he didn't give me what I thought I wanted. Oh thank God He didn't. Every moment from the time I found out I was pregnant, it feels like being given a present...a present I didn't realize I needed and wanted but now can't get enough of. Sometimes I feel sorry for other parents who don't have this specific present to be honest 😝 (hehehe).

A few years ago, I wondered about the kind of young lady you would become. I imagined your preferences, your attitude, your disposition, your interests, your heart....God surprised me once again with the kind of lady He designed you to be. I love talking to you. I love the way your mind doesn't accept arguments just because people tell you they are true. I love the purity of your heart. I love your quest for finding out what's right and why it is right. I love the way you research topics to death. I love your wit and dry humor. I love how deeply you care....I am sad about the way you try to hide how much you do.  I love the way you devote yourself so fully to projects and endeavors you care about. I love that you talk to me about your hurts. I love how I can talk to you about so many things that most kids can't handle yet. I love how your serious side is balanced by a crazy, silly one.

It sometimes hurts me when I realize that you don't see how wonderfully you were created by God. It hurts when I realize how you see yourself sometimes. I pray that God will allow you to see yourself in the way Dad and I see you. Or even better, that God will allow you to see yourself in the way God sees you! I pray that you also realize that Dad and I know that you are not perfect. No one is (though Beyonce and I are very close to being perfect). The thing is, when we see that flaw...it does not, it CANNOT lessen the love we have for you. Not even a little bit.

Love,

Mom