A Mother’s Good Work
You let somebody in, be he love or what, and there inside, while you slept and your feet wandered in dreams, a secret thing happened.
Making like a big-boom, your body a universe, you mirrored Eden way down. You made a baby. These good works were planned before earth rose from roaring oceans.
Then you woke up a mother, said “how will I get through this day?”
Now in the early morning, your eyes open, body uncovered, indecent, and sprawled out. Bare feet to the wood floor, trail to the coffee, whether you know it or not, you look for God.
Baby’s got an angel voice in the crib. They wake up day with song, boys all in tiny underwear, brightest eyes. Before the clothes on, we sense God like we remember it, the heartbeat in the womb, the garden and Him around the corner calling our names, the perfectly fine feeling of being alone, naked, and content with our maker.
We can be lonely in this experience, Mama, you and I – yet we are with God. Walk with Him this Mother’s Day Weekend. You may not get your expectations, your morning to sleep in or your pedicure. Your hard work may never be acknowledged, but
Jesus is Emmanuel. Call Him so. I’m trying to let His name echo across the lonely places in my heart.