A letter to my daughter for when she misses me—from a traveling mom
My dear daughter,
You are only four right now, and will not remember the times that Mommy was there for you when you were a baby, but as you get older, I’m sure you will remember the times that Mommy was not there more than you will remember the times that she was around. Don’t you see underneath your teary eyes and strong clutched hands that I travel for you?
I travel for work, so that I can give you all the things that I wish for you.
I travel leisurely alone, so that I can clear my mind and remember that beneath the stress of being a mom, there is the joy of raising you.
I travel and see all the goodness in people, so that I can teach you their principles and pray that one day you, too ,can see the goodness in the world.
I travel and see all the people that the world has forgotten, so that one day when you grow up, you will know to look for these people and be the source of goodness for them.
I travel and bring the world to you, so that one day you will not be afraid of the world, because even though the world can be scary and tearful and hurtful at times, it is the same world that gave me you, the same world that gave you me and all the goodness that comes with it.
So don’t you see, my dear daughter, that every time your tiny hands clutch at mine praying that I don’t go, I must go for you and hope that our time apart is short, and that you will remember with each passing day that on my return I will be wiser, calmer, and a better mother for you.
You are my world, but I know as you get older I will not always be your world, but I will see to it that your world will be filled with all the grace and goodness that it can be.