The sweetness still lingers from my Mothers Day, when hearts praised in their little, but oh-so-big!, ways.
A boy who overheard Mama-gushes about the bluebells being in bloom, rising up before anyone else and heading out in pj's to the forest edge to gather a big bouquet of them just for me.
A girl who conspired for three weeks to buy ("with my OWN money!" she swelled) a bar of dark chocolate for me. I do recall vaguely her asking nonchalantly but completely out of context whether I preferred dark or milk chocolate. It all makes sense now.
A husband who bypasses the all-caps-printing to write bits of love and appreciation in cursive.
And I look on, with swollen heart, and wonder at the beauty of it. The gift of it. The joy.
Never, until I became a mother myself, did I realize what it meant to be a Mother. Only now that I too am one, can I understand the gravity of the gift I was given by my own mother each day of my life. And only now, when I ponder my life without my dearlings, can I begin to comprehend the incredible wonder, the amazing gift, the blessedness of my little loves.
It didn't have to be so. It ISN'T so for many wonderful, yearning women. And yet here I sit, listening to little snores, a boy humming, and a girl flipping pages as she wills more light from the windowsills. I am so incredibly blessed. And for no good reason!
This Multitude Monday I can think only of the great joy God has given me by granting me one of my great desires...to be a Mother.
Sometimes the gift is found in gathered bouquets or moments of lovely and sometimes the gift is found in the unlovely moments that draw me away from myself and closer to God. The unlikely blessings are often the greatest; those that are not to make my life more beautiful to me, but to make me more beautiful to God. Pearls to adorn me with patience. Endurance. Steadfastness. Selflessness. Dependency upon Him.
Counting it all joy....
753....... sour milk smell
754........ slippery baby bath skin
755........ pudgy fingers that wrap around your fingers, and tug both your hair and your heart
756........ children: instant conversation starters
757........ water-fountain pony tails and braids that last only an hour or so
758....... ribbons of every shade
759........ Lincoln Logs in shoes
760........ waking up to a wee one crawling on top of me
761........ squinty smiles
762....... exhaustion at the end of a productive day
763....... exhaustion at the end of a too-short night
764........ bouncing in the back of the church to quiet a rasberry-blowing, happily-squealing baby
765........ girls who want to be like their Mama's
766........ Mama's who want to be like their girls
767........ bouquets in every room
768........ deep belly laughs
769........ the millions of cheek kisses I have given
770....... watching my husband turn into a father
771....... watching my children adore him for it
772....... a table gathered round
773........ not enough chairs
774........ always enough conversation
775........ laughing until you cry
776........ learning as you teach
777......... the back of Andrew's neck
778........ Corynn's perfect ringlets when her hair dries or when it is humid
779....... Adele's droopy ear
780........ Judah's laugh lines
781........ yearning to be a better person for them
782........ compliments on my cooking and third/fourth helpings to prove the point
783....... the soundtrack of my life: singing, giggling, crying, squealing, & animal sounds mixed in
784....... having plenty of happy recipients for my crafty pursuits
785....... hand me down clothes
786....... being too busy
787....... snuggling in with a book
788....... when they always are asking me questions
789....... when I actually know the answers
790........ that first cry
791........ a few freckles here and there
792........ mismatched socks
794........ four different colored pens in my diaper bag, for when they need a diversion
795........ holding hands across the street or maybe just because
796........ baby food grinders
797......... reliving each and every dream of theirs, both good and bad
798......... talking about them with Matt in bed; they are US, only better
799........ affections freely given without the constraints that come with growing up
800....... new joy each day. Fresh memories. Fun had. Love given. Us, together.
by Edgar Guest
No children in the house to play--
It must be hard to live that way!
I wonder what the people do
When night comes on and the work is through,
With no glad little folks to shout,
No eager feet to race about,
No youthful tongues to chatter on
About the joy that's been and gone?
The house might be a castle fine,
But what a lonely place to dine!
No children in the house at all,
No fingermarks upon the wall,
No corner where the toys are piled--
Sure indication of a child.
No little lips to breathe the prayer
That God shall keep you in His care,
No glad caress and welcome sweet
When night returns you to your street;
No little lips a kiss to give--
Oh, what a lonely way to live!
No children in the house! I fear
We could not stand it half a year.
What would we talk about at night,
Plan for and work with all our might,
Hold common dreams about and find
True union of heart and mind,
If we two had no greater care
Than what we both should eat and wear?
We never knew love's brightest flame
Until the day the baby came.
And now we could not get along
Without their laughter and their song.
Joy is not bottled on a shelf,
It cannot feed upon itself,
And even love, if it shall wear,
Must find its happiness in care;
Dull we'd become of mind and speech
Had we no little ones to teach.
No children in the house to play!
Oh, we could never live that way!