Little Me

I recently unearthed a leatherish looking white box from under the recesses of our bed.

I recognized it immediately.

It was my mom's jewelry box. A coffee ring staining the lid. Soft red lining inside.

And I could tell from my kids' reactions that they were eyeing that treasure chest the exact same way I always eyed it as a kid - like some sort of miracle box o' wonders.

So we spent a morning going through its contents. The golden crab pendant from Mom's high school - Hampton Crabs. (Yeah, crabs.) The long strings of pearls. The gaudy brooches that must have belonged to another era - I think I remember photos of people wearing those things, but thankfully I have no recollection of my mother sporting them.

It was fun to see Mosely and London's eyes shining as they gently touched each item and ohhed and ahhed to their heart's content.

I let the girls play dress up for a little while before we carefully stowed the jewelry back in its box.

"Mommy, will you take my picture? I think I look just like a little you," London commented, coming out of the bathroom all ready for a photo shoot.

And if you had the distinct pleasure of knowing Little Lacey, you would probably agree - the kid looks an awfully lot like I did at her age.

A little spooky, actually, such a carbon copy image.

Now I cannot help whether my offspring look physically like me or not. That's really out of my control.

But, for good and for bad, I do know that they often act like me.

And that is just plain overwhelming.

Because my actions are not always worth imitating.

But I guess that's really our calling, isn't it? Our mission. Our purpose.

No, not to create little copycats of us, exactly. But to be the type of people we would want our children to be. To pursue the things we would want our children to pursue.

To be worthy of imitation.

Really, this isn't just true for our kids only, is it?

Maybe it's true for anyone who watches us.

To be worthy of imitation.

Not that anyone has to imitate us.

But that if they did, it would be okay. It would be good, in fact.

Because we are all imitating someone. Reflecting someone.

And at this house, I know my children are watching.

They are studying me.

And it's humbling and terrifying and difficult and incredible to live under such close scrutiny at all times.

So I know this.

I had better be imitating someone. Someone better than myself.

Because while my actions are not usually worth imitating, His always are.