Held

In a quiet corner of our house Emilie stops me,

she wraps her arms around me,

falls into her mama.

I hold her.

 A 14 year old still needs to be held.

 

 "I love you, Baby."

She is taller than me, but will always be my baby.  

Emilie rests. 

Rests her tired head on my steady shoulder.

 "I really love you," she whispers.

I'm always

amazed by the grace 

and generosity of her love. 

 "I don't deserve your love. I'm such a mess."

 "I love you more because you're messed up," she says.

I chuckle.

 She wants to explain. 

I interrupt.

I squeeze my thoughtful girl tight and whisper, 

"I get it." 

I get that she adores the 

saved,

the redeemed,

the beautiful that comes from my ashes.  

  I fall into her safe arms.

Rest on her strong shoulders. 

She holds me.

This 39 year old mama cherishes being held.

 Live in Peace,

Photos from Feb, 2009.