Saturday, July 16, 2011


I remember the first time he looked up at me and gave me his first toothless grin.

I gasped and called for his Dad and both of us stood over him - cooing and making high-pitched baby talk to see if he'd do it, again.


And, I remember when his two top teeth started coming in and I didn't think anything could possibly be more precious than that little face.

His smile healed me.

Somewhere deep inside of me - where hurts from my past and insecurity lived and where questions of worth held hostage a measure of joy I hadn't known before he was born - somehow his smile reached down and healed part of me that was broken.


He is my first child. My first son. He is the gift that sprung up in me a joy and hope I'd never known before I first laid eyes on him.


His top teeth are coming in. Again. Six or so years after that adorable little face first looked up at me with those budding baby teeth on full display every time he smiled.

And, his smile - his precious, precious smile - the one that reached down and healed his Momma's heart those many years ago is still balm on the broken places in me.

Every time he sends it my way.


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