“Mommy, up.”

My daughter didn’t like to walk. Not when she was three years old or five or seven. (We’ll stop at seven because true confessions should only reveal so much.) She could walk – had been doing so since she was 10 months old.

Maybe she thought walking was boring. As a future gymnast, she climbed everything that stood still and was always happiest upside down. Maybe she wanted to be eye level with the grown-up world.

Either way, as soon as her shoes hit the pavement, she raised her little arms and said “up”. She’d already mastered sad puppy eyes and to the dismay of my family and friends, I acquiesced. Every, Single. Time.

I loved it. Yes, it strained my back, and wrinkled my clothes, and yes, people gave me funny looks as I held her and pushed the loaded grocery cart with one hand.

Nope. Wouldn’t trade those days for anything.

I treasured the feel of her little arms around my neck. Loved being able to whisper truth into her ear.

“You are a gift.”

“You bring us joy.”

“God has a plan for your life.”

Such moments are precious and fleeting. Hold them close for as long as possible. Remind them they are a gift.