Mirrored Closet Doors

I remember the first time My Hero and I walked through the house that has since become our home.  As we made our way to the guest bedrooms I chuckled when I saw the mirrored sliding closet doors.  The highlight of my childhood summers was going to the beach.  We stayed in the same condo for years and the room my sister and I shared had mirrored sliding closet doors.  Every summer, without fail, she and I would stand half-in/half-out of the closet, lift our outside arm and leg up and down while we pretended to be flying.  Laughter from that little room poured into the entire condo.

Once the memories faded and I returned back to the present, I wasn't too excited that those eye-sore doors were going to be in my house.  Beach condo?  Sure.  My home?  Not so sure.  We liked the rest of the house enough that the closet doors weren't a deal-breaker.

Fast forward 5 years and two children later.  Those mirrored doors that I once ignored in hopes that they would disappear have actually become one of my favorite parts of my daughter's room and my son's room.

While I was pregnant with Addison, the closet mirrors proudly showed off my growing baby belly each time I'd linger in her room.  After she was born I remember holding her nestled into my chest, gazing in the mirror and thinking, "The picture I see in this mirror is exactly what I have dreamed of for so long."  Tonight, I snuggled in bed next to my 3 1/2 year old Addison, looked in the mirror, and saw a beautiful, freshly-bathed, blond-haired little girl reading books with her Mommy.  I noticed fingerprints on the mirrors.  How many times have I cleaned those fingerprints that are gradually reaching higher and higher with the passing years?  I thought back to all the times My Hero and I have tickled her, sang to her, and prayed over her each night.  The mirrors give a wonderful perspective into my treasured mothering moments.

After I nursed my little 10 month old Levi this evening I stood up to hold him and sing my favorite "lullaby," God is So Good.  As always, I held him close and swayed back and forth while his heavy head rested on my shoulder and the weight of his jammied baby body molded into me.  I looked to my left and took in the ceiling to floor image displayed on the mirrors.  My sweet, sweet boy.  A year ago I stood in this same spot, looked in the mirrors, and smiled as I saw how he rounded me and filled me.  Now he fills my arms.  His legs fall past my waist and the weight of him is evident by my upper body strength.  My mind raced forward.  I see an adventurous little blond-haired boy skipping rocks across a lake, trying to get his smooth stones to jump farther than Daddy's.  His once "Mama-only" eyes are now enthralled and in awe of his Daddy who is not only My Hero, but has become his too.  I imagine him coming home from soccer practice, sweaty, dirty, and smelly.  In my present moment I wrap my arms around my baby boy a little tighter, feel his velvety soft, smooth skin, and breathe in his Aveeno baby wash heavenly smell.  I envision the handsome face of my 12 year old boy-man fighting to be brave after he gets hurt and the sting and tightening in my throat as I know that a kiss on his “boo boo” won’t make it all better any more.  I see his kind eyes and gentle smile being extended to serve someone and show God's unconditional love in a tangible way.  I will continue to be his greatest cheerleader and encourager but it will be for far grander things than learning how to take his first steps and how to say "ball," "mama," "dada," and that a cow says "moo".  I imagine him proudly sitting behind the wheel of a car the day he gets his license and watching his hand wave goodbye as I slowly walk into the house, get down on my knees, and pray fervently.  I touch his baby hands…so squishy and soft.  They fit in the palm of my hand, but I can tell that he already has big, strong boy-hands.  I hold his hands tight and pray over them.  I can’t imagine this not-even-a-year-old baby of mine leaving for college or falling in love, so I stop my dreaming there and fully return to the present.  I cling to my boy and let the picture the mirror captures burn a forever image into my mind.  Oh this Mama's heart aches as I know one day I won't be able to hold him close and kiss his pillow-cheeks all day long.  One day I'll look in those mirrors and see a completely different image and I know that the present image will always hold an incredibly dear place in my heart.  Yes, the joy is in the journey, but these fleeting days are precious and I love mothering my baby.

Two weeks ago we joined my family for the highlight of the summer: our beach trip.  No, the fancy house we stayed in was not adorned with mirrored sliding closet doors, but that's okay because I have them at home.  One day soon I'll teach Addison and Levi how to fly.  Until then I'll continue holding my babies close and gazing into the images the mirrors reflect day after day.

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Yet again, thank you, Mom and Dad, for a perfect week at the beach.  Truly, it was a perfect week.

Blessed beyond measure....