It usually starts Monday mornings. The ensuing exhaustion of the weekend combines with the neglected mental and physical household tasks and roils into one huge tsunami wave. I am hardly awake when it hits and soon gasping for emotional air as I try to keep my head above the waters of circumstances, real and imagined. Individually they are manageable. But somehow my mind searches every corner for every possible duty, problem, and need. Combined they present an overwhelming foe, and it’s all I can do to put my feet on the floor.
That’s how this morning started. I delusionally try to tame this monster by writing down every task as quick as I can and spend the rest of the morning and often afternoon strategizing and planning. About this time I wave my white flag and retreat.
Somewhere between conscious thought, crazed efforts, and despair I had a moment with Sammy, my youngest. We were out back eating mulberries as fast as we could pick them. This is becoming a new morning ritual for me and him since we discovered our mulberry tree. I love watching him stain his mouth, hands, and feet as he fills his tummy with the sweet fruit. His fascination with creation speaks to my own. I was watching him try to rescue a back-flipped beetle, when the thought hit me.
He delights me.
He thrills me!
And his happiness feeds my soul.
Right behind that thought came this one.
I would do anything to protect him. From anything. Real or imagined.
Just last week he heard a silly, scary story around a bonfire. His imagination took off, and he was in sobs when he came to me. With everything in me I reassured him of his security and my love.
Every day I live to protect him. From illness, corruption, danger. Even from his naive eight year old self.
All this. And I am a sinful parent. If my heart beats like this for him, how must my Father’s pound in compassion for me. Yearning to protect, comfort, and save. Continually reassuring me even after He bridged eternity to rescue me from the most real danger.
Might my mother love be yet one more proof of the love God has for me? Tender, terrible, relentless, attentive, constant. But His is perfect.
Life’s threats are too big for Sammy. The tsunami wave of circumstances will drown me.
But he has a mama.
And I have a Father.
And we are loved.
Father God, thank you for all plants of the earth, especially this Mulberry tree. In our voices, words and actions, pray we constantly forget nothing You have made. Our Children. Motherhood. Friendship. Now.
smiles. nice kernel of wisdom you gleened about gods love there…and so true it is…even in the midst of the chaos…he is…right there…
I like this line: "Somewhere between conscious thought, crazed efforts, and despair…" Amazing how faithful and persistent our Father is to draw out attention to Him in the midst of those places.
this is lovely and encouraging, kim…
p.s. for some reason the photos didn't show up on my computer 🙁
Beautiful, Kim! I love the image of your son chowing on those mulberries… so sweet! This is wonderful:
"Might my mother love be yet one more proof of the love God has for me? Tender, terrible, relentless, attentive, constant. But His is perfect."
Thanks for your thoughts!
oh… this tugged heart hard, kim… so, so beautiful. i love that you eat from the mulberry tree together every morning. something he will never forget…
I realized that I read your blog, and I just told you that face to face Sunday, but I haven't commented in a woefully long time. And it's an injustice to anyone who pours out their heart for others to read not to at least let said people know you appreciate their gift, if you indeed appreciate it.
And I do.
So here's my comment.
This post reminds me of one of my favorite things about you and Daniel and Emy. You wonderful Hyland people see and appreciate God's beauty EVERYWHERE. You look at something simple and obvious, something most people wouldn't take notice of, something most people would not bother to investigate, and you see truth and blessings and a beauty worth rejoicing about in it. And through at least six Hyland eyes, I'm privileged be able to see and share in that rejoicing.
And as strange as it is, as little time as I've spent hanging out with you, I really do think I'm going to miss you. So keep posting. I love so much to be a part of your life and family when I can be. And I want to continue seeing and rejoicing in them through you.