Dear Mary by Sarah Jakes

Author:Sarah Jakes [Jakes, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: REL012030, REL012000, Motherhood—Religious aspects—Christianity, Mothers—Religious life, Mary (Blessed Virgin, Saint—Miscellanea)
ISBN: 9781441229243
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2015-08-08T00:00:00+00:00

8

they’re my do-over

“Woman, why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

John 2:4

Dear Mary,

My daughter, Makenzie, has the kind of smile that lights the room up. She doesn’t just part her lips, clench her teeth, and say “Cheese.” She opens her entire heart, grabs your soul, and lets you all the way in! Her arms stretch as wide as they can go before wrapping them around you with impressive force. No matter how many times you’ve experienced her hugs, the strength in her arms is a surprise you can’t deny. At five years old, her arms have near perfect muscular definition. More times than I’d like to admit, I’ve caught her doing pull-ups on her bunk bed. Despite my insistence that she be careful, climbing on countertops and swinging from . . . well . . . anything is one of her favorite past times.

There’s a saying that your kids will be “twice as bad” as you were as a child. The phrase is so commonly used that even before I had my son I used it frequently when engaging in conversation with an expectant mother. It was humorous until I was on the receiving end. I was on high alert, paying close attention to his behavior or attitude to determine if this would be true. I don’t vividly remember being four or five, but I’ve heard some interesting stories, and to be frank, they’re not great. If you let my older brothers tell it, my sister, Cora, and I couldn’t be left alone for one minute. My sister and I are not even a full year apart in age. The age difference, or lack thereof, made us partners in mischief. I knew that we’d given our parents some adventures as teenagers, but the accounts of our childhood suggest that we were born with bold natures. My parents recount a story about my sister standing up in her crib as a baby and rocking back and forth in it until it broke into pieces. Evidently, it wasn’t a one-time occurrence either. Three broken cribs later, they finally transitioned her into a less-fragile sleeping arrangement.

That’s the beauty of youth, right? You get so caught up in the moment, you don’t realize things are on the brink of falling apart while you’re having fun. Maturity teaches you to slow down and look for the signs of weakness. Of course, I learned that lesson much later in life, because when I was Makenzie’s age, swinging on the door of our bedroom was much more fun.

I can remember it now. My sister would watch as I balanced on the footboard of our bed. Once I was in position, she’d slowly swing the door in my direction until I could brace one foot on the doorknob, grasp the top of the door with my hands, and then bring the other foot to the other doorknob so that I was straddling the door. Then I’d use a leg to kick against the wall so that I’d swing toward the frame.

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