This essay was written by me and originally posted by Sakura Bloom here. 

They won't remember this.

A thought that often flits, hummingbird-like, through my mind as we go about our days.

He won't remember how I helped him get dressed; the threading of his ever growing limbs through tiny pant legs and flopping sleeves as if I were weaving a baby into a boy a little more every day. 

She won't recall what it feels like to press her pillowed cheeks against the skin on my chest. That feeling of being safely slung next to mama's heart; a mirror of the womb-home I feel like she was just living in yesterday. 

I'm of the belief that memories, whether we can recall them with original sharpness or not, still play a vital role in who we grow to be.  As I write this, my son is three and my daughter is heart-wrenchingly shy of six months old. It's her first Christmas with us earthside and his first as a big brother. 

I already miss them at this age. 

The clarity of the Little Years will inevitably dim as they grow older but that doesn't mean the magic of it will be lost on them. The memories of all their "firsts" will always reside deep inside them, the soft flickerings of a love, a warmth that's always been present. 

Oh Jesus, let me remember this. 

Let me remember her eyes, his laugh. The slow rise of her chest while she sleeps. The way his fingers dance when he tells stories. Her chubby hands reaching to cup my face. His hair catching in the light. Let me recall the rhythm, the poetry of our days when they were this young, when I was this young. Let me be the Memory Keeper, the one who tends to these ember-moments that quietly warm the cores of their growing hearts. 

And so, in each moment and day and long night and moment spent under the arching sun, I'll guard this flame. I'll sing over them. They might not remember when they first heard the song but their hearts will know the familiar hum from deep inside calling out: You are important and beautiful. You were made in His image and born for great purpose. 

All these notes that spark and burn away the doubts that they were ever anything but loved and wanted.

"And this, this is the only way to slow down time: When I fully enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here. Weigh down this moment in time with attention full, and the whole of time’s river slows, slows, slows." - Ann Voskamp