Our legacy + jean size.

I bet my babies won’t tell their future children about my jean size. I’d put money on the fact that they don’t mention the cellulite or lack there of that the sun hits when I wear shorts or a bathing suit. I’d venture to say they never even notice the stretch marks left across my chest from years of nursing or how the laughter lines by my eyes have grown deeper with each passing year. Even if they do, I’d wager that they think even twice about it.

But I do hope they tell their future babies about the joy they felt jumping through the waves hand in hand with their mama. I do pray they pass on an obnoxious love of standing in wonder at cotton candy skies and the wildflowers that line the dirt country roads. And I like my odds that they pass on the tradition of keeping the trunk continuously packed with swimsuits and towels in case a sunset dip calls their name on a summer night.

We’ve been handed a gift - 18 summers with the ones who call us mama. Wear the swimsuit. Get your hair wet. Be the one to model that we are given one wildly precious life and its worth living. Put down the phone and look in their eyes. Find a moment to soak in their sun kissed cheeks and savor this season. Talk kindly about the body God gave you instead of constantly picking yourself apart and tearing it down. Find reasons to laugh, create moments of whimsy, let your clothes get drenched by the smell of the fire, and keep your eyes open for all the ways heaven is breaking through these seemingly ordinary days. They are anything but.