Thanks to the brilliant husband (mine, not yours), I am reposting something that I did not mean to delete.

Legacy (as written on Thursday, January 25th)
John, Cosi and I have spent the last two days in a small town in northcentral Wisconsin. Our time there was really sad, but good. At least that’s what our friend M* kept telling us as he would cry and lean in for a big hug. M*’s dad had been sick with cancer for a while now and finally gave up the glorious fight on Saturday night. John talked to M* the morning after his dad passed away and after he hung up the phone, he described our dear friend as congested, but relieved. We headed up north on Tuesday morning and headed back home not even 36 hours later. Our time there was short, but I am so glad we got to be there. You see, I learned something pretty significant while I was there.
Sometimes, I’ll sneak into Cosi’s room after she’s fallen asleep. I’ll stand over her crib and pull down the covers just a little bit so I can see her sweet smiling face. And most of the time, I’ll stand there wishing I knew what to pray. I want to be a mother who prays for her daughter. But as a person who finds it hard to pray about anything at all, I’ve had a difficult time.
As I lay in bed last night, going over all the emotions in my head and heart and finding it hard to fall asleep, I finally realized what it is I want for my daughter. I ran into her room and stood over her crib and whispered these words
“Please help me mold my baby girl into a woman, who when we die, has friends that will travel across the world (or even 6 hours) to honor the man and woman who helped to make her the way that she is”.
But as I read over that prayer, it almost sounds conceited. And I guess this prayer is more a prayer for me than it is for her. I want to be the type of mother and I hope that John is the type of father that does make Cosi a good friend to others. I want her to smell of honesty. I want her to not be afraid to crumble like a little baby into her friends arms when she is hurting, but also someone who will stand strong when someone needs to lean.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hope and pray that I can be like M*’s dad and that when I die, you would only have to look at my kids to know what kind of person I truly was.