Lead, Kindly Light

One of my friends switched her facebook profile picture today – the new photo gives us a glimpse of what a cute little girl she was when she was maybe four. In the picture, she’s wearing tights – white tights, with some sort of pattern on them. They remind me of white tights I used to have when I was her age – they had little pink hearts all over them.

Even now, I shudder a little inside, to think that I used to wear those tights – that my little legs were encased in… little hearts. Little pink hearts. I hate wearing hearts, to this day. And I think to myself, why did my mom make me wear little pink hearts on my tights? Sigh. Doubtless she thought it was adorable. Blechh.

(pause)

But then I think to myself – a mother who loved her little girl dressed her precious child in tights with…little…pink… hearts. Out of love. My mother loved me, and took care of me–in so many ways, some of which I’m only now beginning to realize and appreciate. And my mom still loves me – and shows it with abundant outpouring – she calls me to just to say hello, pays ridiculous postage to send me dried strawberries and dried pears and the Korean white rice that I like and osmanthus tea, and writes me letters to tell me about her day, and prays for me every day from morning until night, and encourages me and supports me in my dreams, and releases me to God enough to let me run after them.

And as an adult, I may disagree with some of her approaches to things from time to time, and I may get restless under the occasional nagging (although–to be honest–my mom is really great about not nagging too much), but in the end, it’s undeniable – she loves me, quite possibly more than anyone on this earth ever will or could.

So… really. So what about the little pink hearts. I should have worn them with pride. I should have worn them with gratitude. So today – many years later – as I revisit the memory in my mind, I do.