Friday, June 5, 2015
Hello Five Minute Friday. It’s been so long since I’ve written with you. I’ve managed to make it to some of the Thursday night Twitter parties. I’ve seen the prompts calling me. But my words have been quiet inside.
This week though, the idea of gift tugged and pulled at me. My mother heart has been reminded lately of things I need to hear. Lessons I need to learn. Moments I need to remember.
So I come back to the prompt and to one of my favorite communities of writers and friends. This blessed, beautiful place where we open our hearts and let words and tears and the inner workings of our lives bleed and flow and dance across the virtual pages. Yes, this community opens wide and invites you in to share. Come and visit and read. You will be blessed.
This week: Gift
I’ve been holding my daughter close lately – closer than I usually do. We’re big on snuggle time and hugs in our home, but I find myself reaching out in unexpected moments to lay a hand on her cheek; bring her eyes in line with mine; and remind her again how very much she is loved.
I try to do this without tears in my eyes, but am not always successful.
There have been so many stories horror stories affecting children dominating my news sources recently: stories of children’s lives lost through war, daughters torn from their homes through human trafficking; families affected by abuse; and even closer to home – a young local girl (not two years older than my own) who took her own life after a video of a consequence for actions at home went viral online (note – no official connection has been made and an investigation is still pending).
My heart aches for the families affected and caught up in these crises. My heart breaks for the ones lost; for actions that cannot be recalled; for lives that will be changed forever.
And it reminds me – oh, it reminds me so much – that our children are a gift.
My daughter is a gift.
Mothering is the biggest, hardest, most daunting challenge I have ever undertaken in my life. It pushes and stretches me beyond what I think I can endure. It forces me to confront my own behavior and choices and demands that I make better decisions because of the eyes and heart that follows my every move; the lips that mimic my every word; the life that patterns herself after my every action.
But motherhood is a gift.
From inside of all the stretching and bending and crafting of my soul that comes through the steep learning curve of parenting – joy shines through. My jaded heart cannot withstand the unblinking, unfettered love for my girl. Even in the midst of my most frustrating moments, I have only to look into those soft green eyes and I am undone – reminded of the weighty welcome burden to shepherd this sweet spirit into the delicate balance of independence (as her own person) and dependence (on her God).
We are so blessed to live where we do not have to struggle for our daily bread.
We are so blessed to have the freedoms we do: of worship, of education, of art, of expression.
We are so blessed to have a backyard, a garden, a trampoline, a bed to lay our head on and laugh together.
We enjoy these gifts – and sometimes forget that they are a gift.
Hold your dear ones close – treasure the gift that they are and the gifts that they bring.
Celebrate those gifts with thanksgiving in your heart.
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