“Mommy waited a while until you were born.”
This is something I have often heard from my mom since I was young. She said that after getting married, she had hoped to have a child quickly, but contrary to her expectations, she had to wait a long time before she conceived me. Because of that, many people around her celebrated the news, and when she was heavily pregnant, she proudly stuck out her belly even more, wanting to show it off. However, as the main character of this often-repeated story, I never felt particularly moved by it. After all, it was my mom’s feelings, not mine. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand why she kept telling the same story over and over.
One day, while reading a book about communication, a certain passage caught my attention. It said that when elderly people repeatedly talk about a particular event, it’s because they believe that event holds special meaning in their lives. The moment I read that, the first thing that came to mind was my mom’s words:
“I waited a while until you were born.”
Among all the countless experiences my mom has had throughout her life, the fact that my birth still stands out so vividly is clear—even now, just by seeing how she talks about it as if it happened yesterday. Simply because I am her child, I became an incredibly special being to her even before I was born.
Then I reflect quietly: what about the waiting of our Heavenly Mother, who plants the hope of the kingdom of heaven in us through Her unchanging words? I ponder the long periods of waiting that would have been impossible without Her deep, aching love for us.