Sunday, 18 March 2012

Rooted in Love


Every day, since the day he was born, this boy of mine has been loved.

He's been kissed. He's been held. He's been laughed at and laughed with. He's been squished and flung about and snuggled and raspberried. He's been talked to and listened to and told that he is loved. 

For almost two full years my whole life has centred around loving this small boy. And even though he's just one small person, he's soaked it all up, and stored it all away, and buried his roots deep in the security of our love.

Of course, he'll never stop to think about the fact that his early days were rooted in love, any more than the daffodils bother to ponder the creeping white tendrils that bury themselves in the soil whilst they open their faces to greet the sun and wave their heads wildly at the wind.

But the roots will be there nonetheless.

And I can't help but think that whatever mistakes I may make in the future (and I'm sure there will be many) and whatever trials may come his way (and I pray that they may be few) this boy will always be alright.

Because his first few years saw him planted in love - and the roots are deep and strong.

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful words Helen. I celebrated Mothering Sunday with my son, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are equally loved - and wondrously so am I. We are truly blessed. Love to a lovely mother. Bobby x

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