I know you. I know your work. From the moment you rise, you respond. You take a deep breath and begin to serve and never look back. Many years ago you were a daughter, a friend, a student, independent and eager. Your steps led you to this place--your family encircled around you. You are weary but you are grateful, because this family is amazing.

Your husband needs you, though you accept that he doesn't know how to say this. You need each other. You ought to lean on him more, to put your head on his shoulder and laugh when you can. You need to dance together again in the kitchen while the children watch with wide grins. They won't understand the tears that well up as you laugh. This memory will buoy you for a long time.

Those children, they've grown from your belly to your arms to your soul, and with love they twist upward like vines. You are their trellis, and together you and your husband will teach them to seek the sunlight.

You didn't know how difficult motherhood would be. To be needed so deeply and so constantly while you manage your home and your work and oversee the lives of your little ones--you just didn't understand the tide that would tug you away from the life you knew.

But you are not drowning. Look back once in a while, and know that whomever you were on that shore, you are being transformed into someone much more radiant now. Choose to swim in the current. God will meet you with open arms when you finish. Well done, He will say. That moment will be more than enough.

Until then, you serve and you give. Your effort is impressive, but it's easy to become winded. On the days you don't seem to move forward, listen. Those who've gone before you--your mama, your grandma, your teachers, your dearest friends--they've seen your transformation and they're cheering wildly. Store their praise in your heart and smile. These moments are your legacy.