Very often, when this little Mette Mary is crawling rather wildly after me, or beaming at me – nearly beyond containment -- with her crinkle-nosed smile, or suddenly becoming horribly discontent with anyone else if she sees that I am nearby, or happy only if she’s in my arms, I feel . . . flattered. Honored. A little like . . . surely she must be confused!
I can’t quite believe it’s possible that this miraculous, spectacular little soul could actually prefer me above all else! It seems not quite real that all bundled in this unearthly wonder of a child there could exist such a strong and overriding desire simply to be with me; normal, ordinary, mortally-flawed me.
But . . . she does. She does prefer me above all else. By some miracle, this little girl appears to really truly love and adore me. It’s impossibly wondrous having a perfect and magical little angel who is blind to your shortcomings and just . . . unquestioningly hitches her wagon to yours with utter confidence and willingness and desire.
Dear little wished-for child. “Wished-for child”. That’s what her middle name means. It almost made me chuckle when I first discovered it because I hadn’t known I was wishing for her. In fact I very much thought my family was complete. But surely; surely, even without my knowing it, my soul has always always been wishing for her – for eternities – wishing for her.