I see you, little one, wanting what big brother has. You cross your arms and stomp your feet because he’s eleven and you’re not. You want the freedom to ride your bike through town and visit Grammy on your own. Life’s not fair and you want to scream about it.
You think I’m mean and say you hate me, but I know the truth. Deep down inside, you know I love you and want what’s best. At the end of the fit, I’m still your mom and you’re still my little lamb. No amount of anger will change the way I feel.
Come here, sweet boy, and let me hold you. I know these tears you cry. I cry them, too. Are you surprised? I promise it’s true.
I want what she has. I envy and covet. I long to grow up and do what the big girls do. In the dark of my room, I stomp my feet and say it’s not fair. I scream and cry to my Father above. Then he scoops me up and says, “There, there. Not now, little one. It’s not for you. You know I love you and want what’s best.” At the end of my fit, I feel him close and know. He’s my Father and I’m his lamb. Nothing I feel will change that.
Thank you, Father,
For loving me and keeping my close.