Millions of pictures

Today I had to ground my oldest daughter from her markers, pencils, and crayons. Why? Because she used the forbidden permanent marker to draw with, knowing well that it was forbidden. How do I know that she knows this rule? Because she said, "Mom, I'm not going to lie. I drew these pictures with daddy's black marker." And then because she told the truth, she assumed she was off the hook. Unfortunately, only for one misdemeanor, not both. After some tears, she accepted this punishment and went out to play. I started cleaning up parts of my neglected house and found a stack of pictures that Evelynn has drawn recently. This is not uncommon. I have three drawers for her to stash her art, and once a year I empty a box with about 15 lbs of used paper to the recycling from her art endeavors, keeping a few select gems. Recently, first grade has taught her to narrate her pictures, so there are some truly awesome explained art floating around. But I digress. I found this stack of pictures and realized that they were from the time when Doug and I went to pick up my parents from Las Vegas, staying a few nights there and in St. George while the kids stayed with Aunt Marrianne. As I leafed through them, I found a common thread. Almost all the pictures were addressed to me, the mother she loved the most and missed very much. It made me pause. So I looked at some other stacks of pictures, and realized that most of these were also addressed to me, the mother she "loves so much!" My birthday pictures were gushing with her affection. Part of me was tempted to be cynical and think "Well, if she claims to love me so much, why doesn't she do xy&z more/less often?" Then a small voice said, "She loves you the most because you're her mom. You are very lucky." Yes, I am. I don't deserve this love, but it has been given to me so freely with the innocence of a child. I hope one day to be worthy of such love.