being affectionate. naturally.

I am not, by nature, wildly affectionate.

I’m not a hand patter.

I don’t walk up behind you and give you a shoulder massage.  (Unless you are my husband.)

I’m not likely to hug you when I first meet you.

I am not like my mother in this respect.

(She hugged everyone she met.  Every friend I ever brought home could expect a hug upon entrance to her home.)

I fell into my dad’s pattern – more physically reserved.

But something is changing my non-affectionate ways.

It’s called mothering.

It has been both intentional and non-intentional.

Becoming a mother certainly expanded my heart to degrees of which I have not the verbosity to express.

But I want my children to know that I love them.  I want them to be comfortable with appropriate physical affection.  I want them to be free to hug and to be hugged.

And so.

I’m learning how to do this.

With them – with my little house companions and tender charges.

And now – if you are beside me (and you are my child) I will reach out and touch you.

I will hold your hand

and pat your shoulder.

I will scratch your back and play with your hair.

You can rest your head on my shoulder and put your arms around my neck.

Naturally – this affection was always easy when the kids were tinies.  There’s something so natural and pleasant about kissing a baby’s cheeks and tickling a toddler’s toes.  That’s no problem.

But as the kids are aging and changing, I am committed to keeping the affection going.

Dear child of mine – my arm will still slide around your neck when you sit beside me on the sofa.  I will still tuck you in and rub your feet before you fall asleep.

I hope it will become one way – one way in a sea of millions of other ways – that I show you that you are loved.

You belong.