Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Searching for the Poetry

Girl scared awake crashes into our room in the middle of the night.
go get your pillow I remind as I pull the sleeping bag out of the closet. She returns snuggles into the bag and begins falling asleep. She crawls into our bed as I begin to nod back off.
no, stay in the sleeping bag.
i'm scared.
you stay there and I'll hold your hand.
In the dark four year-old hand finds Mama-hand and she is asleep in seconds. Her hand slips from mine before I am ready. She is safe. She is secure. She can rest.
She rests through his getting ready and leaving. Then she wakes crawls up into bed and snuggles close to tell me a story, or three. Getting ready for the day, together.

We go to town. Boy can't or won't keep his boots on. She decides she needs gifts for Mommy and Daddy. Returning to feed children. Then words, sweet time together, reading.

Her choice speaks to my yesterday. Keep following the call, the gift and all things will be supplied.

I can find Him here in the messiness of mothering if I but look at the poetry of the life I've been given. I can see my Author's hand and His presence if I look at Him.

No comments:

Post a Comment