My heart breaks constantly because I can capture moments like these and fall under the illusion that I am actually able to freeze time, but by the time I look up from admiring the snapshot, they are off and running, moving faster and farther from my reach.
The boy you see towering over his little sister is smart and kind. He is goofy and patient. His laugh is contagious, his imagination relentless, his curiosity unquenchable. He is cautious and self-aware, but has an uncanny ability to march into any situation with a straight back and a joke on his lips.
He is a blur, a whirlwind, a tiny tornado of noise and dirt and a thousand questions and twice as many answers. He is a brain, drinking up information about presidents and ocean habitats and multiplication tables.
He is my heart, the part of me that wonders how I got so lucky, how the whole of him is so much greater than the sum of our parts.
And then there’s the girl, content in her brother’s shadow. She is funny and sweet. She is quick and affectionate. Her smile is heart-warming, her brilliance evident, her curiosity insatiable. She is daring and adventurous, but can be watchful and quiet when things are quite unfamiliar.
She is pure charm and magic, a tiny ball of giggles and sticky kisses, generous with her cheerios and squealing laughter. She is a funny bone, showing off her latest trick and making sure you are amused.
She is my heart, the part of me that aches to be near her at all times, that aches to slow down time, that aches beneath the weight of a love so heavy it steals my breath.
This boy and this girl, they are my heart, the part of me that wants to write poetry and sing songs and watch clouds drift by. They are the part of me that is better, that is inspired and awake, the part of me that knows what the grass smells like after it rains, the part of me that dances barefoot in the kitchen.
They are the part of my heart that is most fully aware of a grand and generous God.
23 responses to “If It Doesn’t Break Your Heart, It Isn’t Love”
And you do write poetry. Right here.
I was just thinking this, too. You write so beautifully. It’s poetry, no doubt.
Aww! Thanks, Kim!
Yes. What Leanne said.
Love. Love how you treasure each of them for who they are. Love how you so eloquently capture their personalities in words. Love this post!
Thank you, Anna! And thanks for stopping by and commenting!
What Leanne and Julie said. All I have to add is this made me weak in the knees.
Yay! This comment is going in my Affirmation folder.
Really nice photos. I know what you mean about capturing special moments with your kids. I have a teen daughter, and I often ask myself, where did all the time go?
Exactly – and I’m only seven years in! I can’t imagine how I’ll feel hitting the teens.
Love this post! As the mother of three boys, I ove this line most of all: “He is a blur, a whirlwind, a tiny tornado of noise and dirt and a thousand questions…”
Boys are a definitely a blur. I can barely keep up!
Stop it. Now talk about how crazy they can be.
P.S. Is it weird that I wish I could rock Bean’s outfit?
Things I’ve ACTUALLY said today:
(to Bean) – “Stop taking off your pants.” / “How did you get poop on your hand? Are you sticking your hand in your diaper?” / “No, you can’t get in the shower with Mommy.”
(to Bug) – “Are you tattling on me to Dad?” / “Put on some clothes. Your dripping water all over the hallway.” / “Stop jumping on the bed. Stop jumping on the bed. HEY. Did I say, ‘Why don’t you jump on the bed again?’ or did I say, ‘STOP JUMPING ON THE BED’?!”
I love this post. Thank you so much for capturing how wonderfully heartbreaking it is to be a parent. Something tells me that someday one (or both) of these babies is going to write similar words about their mom.
Fingers crossed, Amy. Thanks!
Love the post and the very way with only photographs and your title you converyed so much! though am not a parent yet i could see right throuh your emotions !! ❤
Thank you! And thanks for stopping by and commenting!
🙂 Do check out my blog too !
I loff my little Bean and Bug. So sweet.