There are mornings when I feel glued to the bed... like there's a thousand pound weight on top of me that I have to throw off before I can get up and get going. It's not that I feel in utter despair or constrained to linger in laziness. Instead it's the impluse to simply "take today off," sip virgin margaritas on my self created, sun filled, tropical beach... watch the sun creep up over the skyline, dig my bare toes into the warm sand, read a good book, pick some fresh berries off a near by vine, go for a long run along the water's edge and basically bask in the glow of one single solitary worry free, stress free, opposition free day... Awwwww. A familiar cry breaks me away from my comfortable daze and I stare up at the ceiling. Less than a minute later another cry joins in, both cries pleading for my love and immediate attention. I give out a long sigh as if I was seriously considering just day dreaming the hours away in bed, even though I know darn well I wouldn't really allow for it. That's when the powerhouse of motivation begins to stir up inside of me and the thousand pound weight is gone and before I know it I'm on my feet and facing the new day like it's my birthday... all illusions of my peace filled, secluded island are replaced with thoughts of two defenseless boys, begging for their mother's touch. But are they really defenseless? In many ways yes. They are physically vunerable, susceptible to the earth's elements, absorbed with their constant needs to be met and any of their discomfort to be handled and cured. But in other ways, greater ways, they are more armored, qualified and prepared than me. It is this thought... the knowing that I am living and caring for spirits hundreds of years more mature than mine, that I am moved. I am moved to disconnect from any selfish haven I might wish to give way to. I am moved to bathe them, wash a soapy rag over their little bodies and rinse them clean from any filth or contamination, while they replenish my desire to cleanse my own soul from the rampant spiritual infection clammoring at the walls of my heart. I am moved as I hold a small hand and dance around the living room in circles, watching the smiles and laughter of a seen angel, wanting to capture this moment and revert back to it every time I need to rid myself of discouragement or fear. I am moved as they happily declare unjudged acceptance and favor to every person we come in contact with as if everything good is illuminated and anything negative is inconspicuous. I am moved when I see them looking up at a crowd of birds flying overhead, curiously searching and exploring their new environment with awe and wonder as I have to work hard to hold back my cynicism and conflicting feelings towards a human climate that pollutes our culture with chaotic promiscous grime and unrestrained vulgar corruption. I am angered, fed up and enraged at the dishonesty of a planet that teaches so many wide spread falsehoods about what is most valuable and important in this mortal, temporal state. But then I am moved to peace, moved to softening, moved to hope when I hold my little one as we talk with the Creator of us both, the Holy One who trusted me enough to raise, love, cherish and lead these two spirits. But as I lead them they are also leading me, teaching me, guiding me, reminding me of my purpose here... and always, when the stubborness and unyielding tendencies of my pride attempt to take root, to set up camp, to find anchor in my heart and leave me empty, alone and unreachable, they move me. | .jpg)
Thanks for your entry, Crys. It reminds me of something I read in my morning study a couple days ago. It says, "When a baby arrives, this new mystery guest is, of necessity, greeted by a hostess. Even before birth, the new one feels the gratitude and gentle greetings of the mother. She is like a veil from which the child emerges freshly draped in holiness. She is the portal between very different worlds, the only possible entry. She 'gives birth' in the highest sense of giving. Lying at the very gates of death, she opens the gate of birth, and this she does for a stranger, or rather, a friend long forgotten. The new entrant steps through to new powers and dramatic opportunities but only at a high and singular price paid by the one who will be known as Mother. She offers herself with an amount of understandable fear, but she does it. To our amazement, she may even do this again and again, knowingly, gladly." From the book, "Inviting Him In" by Wayne E. Brickey.
ReplyDeleteThis role we moms take on is not easy and our moments of heroism are unheralded and unnoticed. It's a tall order to turn our focus from ourselves, where it has been until this point, and have it rest on Little Someones who require 24/7 care of the most taxing kind. There's nothing like this role in all the world and it is a powerful hands-on kind of a Teacher that always has a new challenge for us to learn to roll with.
Blessings to you as you accept the 'weight' of this daily endeavor and embrace the New You it so beautifully reveals.