scribblechic

Ever endeared by the promise of a postmarked envelope, I have come to find them more meaningful on uneventful occasions. Too often a holiday creates an expectation of grand acknowledgment, one that overlooks our flaws and celebrates only our accomplishments.

I thought of this first on Mother’s Day when my husband’s card to me was filled with repetitive reassurance of my strengths as a mother and my family’s good fortune. I thought of it again last night when pressed to create a similar declaration of exceptional parenting for Father’s Day.

Here is the thought that chased around my script – parenting is a bundle of mistakes and mundane moments sprinkled with remarkable moments of love. We don’t memorialize our errors, rather we hold tightly to ideals of perfection.

I am grateful everyday for the traditional trappings my husband’s busy days provide. Our home rests in a safe neighborhood and between our walls we are blessed with comforts that are a privilege. Our children do not want for food and they are clothed in warmth.

Still, as parents, most of our greatest gifts to our children have come from moments of colorful, noisy mistakes or discoveries that undermined our assumptions. We gather our individual flaws into efforts to model strengths for our children to learn from, each day a new beginning in a love story centered in a commitment to be present.

To my husband,

Thank you for the everydays between, before, and after the holidays; the grand gestures of love and the everyday routines that build toward our future. Thank  you for growing from your mistakes and giving us room to uncover our own lessons. Thank you for modeling a man whose footsteps our son can grow into while walking beside you and for demonstrating the kind of man we can hope our daughter might one day find in a young man’s friendship. Thank you for being perfectly imperfect and uniquely ours.

Love, Me