Dear Daughters : Winter (or something like it)

Dear Daughters, Winter is almost here. Well, something *like* winter is almost here. The humid, muggy, breezy season is upon us, just chilling the water to an unbearable temperature, but not bringing any possibility of snow.

If I am honest, I have not been good to you during this change of season. My temper has been short, my patience has been thin, my words have been harsh. You don't understand "the busy season" for photographers, and it isn't fair to you how much work I've dedicated myself to. But for the next few months it's just us. No flights, no marathon sessions, no late night editing. Just us. For your sake, I will remember that this season is short and that it can easily be ruined by my bad attitude.

And if I'm more honest, being a wife is even less intuitive than being your mother. It is easier for me to kiss your skinned knees, sing you to sleep, or change your sheets in the middle of the night because of a tummy bug than it is to be a wife. Motherhood, I am starting to consider, may be more intuitive to us ladies than anything else. Our bodies our created for it. But being submissive (in the context of the Word) and supportive and loving does not come easy to me some days, and I know it throws off the entire balance of our home. My flesh fights it, my mind belittles it, my heart grows weary of it. Your daddy and I celebrated 10 years of friendship a few weeks ago. We have changed so much in that short time. But we've grown so close because of you girls. The only options we have during these hard days and long nights is to go our separate ways, or grow closer together. Looking back at the work He's done in your daddy and I in 10 years is indescribable. I am embarrassed at who I was, but I know that if God can turn that mess of a girl around, He has BIG things for you.

I hope you know how good your God is, my girls. His Grace is so overabundant in covering your family. I know He is doing a work through us that will last generations through your children and theirs. Know that the grace I so sparingly hand to you is but a drop in the ocean to what He has to offer. I can't wait for the day you meet your Savior out of your own need. He is waiting. He is good. He is faithful.

While it may sound like we are dredging through things, we really aren't. The laughs we have these days are deeper, the time we spend together is more intentional. Your daddy left his job at the plant because he missed you. Because he loves you so very much. It didn't make any sense to make money for you that he couldn't spend with you. So now, he is home every day. Working at a job he loves, with the ladies that mean the most to him - me and you.

We love you so much, Lily, Norah, and Phoebe. You are so worth all of this work.

(Thank you so very much, Whitney of The Archibald Project for taking time out of your preparation to MOVE TO UGANDA to capture these moments for us. If you would like to support this amazing ministry that promotes orphan care all over the world through story telling, be sure to follow all of these linkies.)