I was holding the car door for my Mom as she carefully maneuvered herself into the back seat. She sat still for a moment before pulling her legs in and looked up at me. "Right now your hair is the exact color it was when you were a little girl."
In that moment I was that little girl again. Never mind that I long ago began coloring my hair to hide the gray that had started at such an early age. Never mind that there are seven incredible children who call me Grandma. Never mind the lines and wrinkles that have added "character" to my aging face. I am still my Mother's little girl.
Just for an instant the cares and burdens that come with being wife, mom and grandma lifted, and I felt light and carefree. Just for an instant I wasn't the responsible one. I was someone's little girl.
I wrapped my heart around that moment and carried it with me for days. I thought about a Father who loves me dearly and calls me His little girl. A Father who wants to take every care and burden and carry it for me, and I felt light and carefree.