Hearts of sweet.

It was sometime in the gauzy postpartum months of last year, when I can't remember certain whys or hows, or what we were even talking about, I do remember a certain sweet moment. Mr. Keller told me that when he was halfway across the universe in Thailand for two years, the person he missed most was his mom. The privilege and sweetness of being a mother to boys!

Last week, when Morgan was away and I had extra energy to linger longer in the rocking chair with Danny, I couldn't help but notice how much he was swooning over me. In a moment, it was so clear to me how special and sacred and different the relationship of mother and son truly is. Danny is so enamored with me, the one who holds, feeds, cleans him, plays with him, kisses his face and hands and his chubby little toes. He goes to sleep in my arms and wakes up calling for me. His tiny heart loves me before he even knows what love is. His first real relationship, the first he's experiencing softness and love.

I wanted to marry Mr. Keller not because he has wavy hair, warm hands or because he smells like a summer day in heaven. I fell in love with him because he is tender. In his honest heart, which he opens to very few, is pure devotion. I know it's because of his mother. Mothers shape hearts. I'm learning that more every day. I'm shaping two of my own. Right now they are both sweetly mine, but someday I'll send them on. And when that day comes, I know who I hope they'll be like.