There was a time when all I wanted was to be wanted. As the wife, as the mom, as the friend, as the singer, as the writer, as the funny one, the pretty one…
It wasn’t this morning, it’s been occurring morning after morning for a long time. I’ve been waking up wanted . I woke up to the realization of what being wanted translates to for me… It’s being Loved. Big, boldly, with complete abandon , laid down.
I don’t know why it took so long to fully wrap my heart around it. Maybe because love is a journey down a long and winding path, instead of a quick walk across the street. I wish I could go back and tell the girl I was at 14 , that it was all going to be ok, that she was loved by a love so ancient and huge , that time was on her side, and that her love story was being written by the author of the world. Only God knows the beginning and the end. I would tell her then what I know now … You are wanted, you are loved. You always have been. Your name was KNOWN as the foundations of the earth were poured . You there, at the post office, at the elementary school, making lunch , walking down the hall in your highschool, and you there still in your bed….you are wanted.
Thank you mama….
For holding me when I wanted to be held
For working so hard
For hearing me call for you , even when I didn’t speak
For putting up with me through all my phases.
For telling me how beautiful I am
And for believing it
For showing me that dancing in the kitchen is good, and might just be what keeps us alive.
For always seeing the woman I was supposed to be, and not just the girl I was.
For instilling in my core, that love is all there is, all there was, all we ever needed, and all we can hope to be.
For all of this, and for tickling my arms and mending my heart so many times…. Thank you. Happy Mothers Day from one broken, redeemed, tired, and grateful mama to another one.
Thomas is opening a gun store and indoor shooting range. Wow. This man of mine is persistent when it comes to pursuing his dreams, and calling God on his word to rebuild, and renew visions and ideas for our family. It is a new chapter in the novel that is our lives. Manchild is learning to drive, and has a girlfriend. Little big blue eyed girl is deeply in the throes of adolescence with a tongue that can turn from honey to vinegar at a moments notice, I never actually got out of this stage, so you can see the dilemma. Seriously, she is stretching around in her cocoon, I can see it moving, and changing. I know that the butterfly getting ready to come out will be dazzling. I would be lying to you all if I said this is an easy time. I always said that I couldn’t stand the thought of the kids growing up, but now I can see what I was afraid of was them growing AWAY. That isn’t going to happen. Little lion boy is finishing up his school year strong, had the famous hygiene field trip of fifth grade today ! He is so eager for sixth grade, and to start HIS next chapter. Hope. I can see it in him. And then of course, we must not forget almost grown on my own girl…wonder when I will stop calling her that ? She is having a baby girl. Yeah, it’s hard to wrap my mind around, luckily, my heart has already grasped it, and can’t wait ! I sat there in the ultra sound room, and as they revealed the gender, I was just overwhelmed at the thought, the promise that God restores lost years, and he mends broken hearts. Thomas and I have been joking a lot about what our grandparent names will be, and this afternoon I sat out on the deck just daydreaming about what was coming, and what I will be called, and very clearly I heard God say – My name is love…and my hands are called tenderness, they reach across desserts, and the deepest pits. My thoughts toward you are as deep as the ocean floor, and as wide as the sky, you are always on my mind. My heart, it burns as hot as the sun for you. From the moment you were created, until all time is done …….I will pursue, and protect you. You are my beloved little girl, and I am your GOD.
I wrote it down, and I asked Abba, is this for my granddaughter ? He answered, ” Yes, and for your daughters, and for your mother, and your sisters, and Angie…its for you.”
Pulled tight, sound sharp.
stretched to the limit with too much give.
Is there a happy medium ? I would like to say – since going back to work, but that would not be accurate. So, I will say, since becoming a mother, my heartstrings are always out of whack. Or out of tune, or maybe that’s the way they are supposed to sound. I’m home today. Isaiah had his fifth ear surgery, I’m so grateful that it’s only ear surgery, and I’m so pissed that it is still going on. This boy, this lion of mine, so strong, and still so young. It is impossible that he is about to be Eleven.
At this time of year in particular, I think of Mary. So young, and so strong. With heartstrings too. My hero. The task of raising a man is hard enough, but raising the KING OF THE WORLD, knowing that you would let him go, for love. Gets me every time.
There are days when I am so confused, so heartbroken, so overwhelmed with all that we have on our plates. I hate those days, and I love those days. It’s on those days that Abba whispers….you were made for this. And so, my heartstrings play their song, a song that, at times does not seem melodious , or soothing , and that has yet to resolve the dissonance, but it is there, the song that my children respond to. It’s why they snuggle me, seek me out, reach for my hand. It’s the song. It can be sweet, out of tune and with clashing harmonies at times, but it is ours. We were made for this.
And by stuff, you know what I mean. Friends get sick, friends move away, you don’t get invited where you want to go, you get behind in home school, you speak harshly to your 12 year old daughter, even though you know that every moment you have with her matters so much right now. You decide to give up. And then you realize you can’t give up. You are the Mom. The captain of this ship…the one that feels like it’s taking on water. Turn around, sit down…I was trying to do this alone again.
Gently, I am reminded, I am a CO-Captain, I am not alone. And why is it so easy to forget the great stuff that happens ? My size 14 shoe wearing son still snuggles me, kisses me bye, and protects my heart the best he can on a daily basis. My 12 year old STILL runs wild and free, she is still a child. She has dirty feet, and tangled hair. She wants to sit in my lap, counter-cultural, indeed. And of course, It is ridiculous to think that in my moments of weakness, I could forget, my youngest. He comes up to me and announces – this is going to be the looonnggest kiss. Lips on mine, puppy breathe…How could the other sh%@ matter ? Because I am flesh. And when it comes right down to it, I’m just a girl. I want, and I need, I imagine, and I fall short. But I am still here. And my heart is still soft enough for the gentle nudges that come from the Lord. All I have to do is get quiet, and give in to him.