The other day, I bought my daughter some winter outfits and everything sparkled. Glitter is in, apparently. You can’t get away from it.
Of course, my daughter loves it. The trouble is, the sparkles come off on anything her clothes touch. Not a whole lot. Just enough to leave me sparkling after I had her in my lap for a few minutes. But is that really trouble?
She leaves glitter on me, my five-year-old daughter. And oh, how I treasure it.
Ann Voskamp wrote that she gave birth to six children but each of them gave birth to her in return. Every time a woman becomes a mother, she becomes a new person. The world changes when your child comes into the world. You change. The child changes the mother.
My children waiting for donations for Operation Christmas Child, dressed in their Adventurer uniforms. Deborah is wearing her blue coat, her back toward the camera.
And daughters especially have a way of leaving glitter on our clothes, on our hearts, on our hands.
Tonight a friend of mine is mourning the loss of her eight-year-old daughter, killed in a freak backyard accident a week ago. No more glitter. Deborah – that was her name – is now a memory. The mother is afraid to go back to her home and walk through her daughter’s room. She is staying with her own parents, unable to make herself look at her daughter’s glitter. Continue reading
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