09/05/2026
For all the mothers, for all the kisses, for all the moments frozen in our minds, we're still ourselves but we're wholly changed by the mystery of this mothering. We're seen through a prism, each of our children experiencing us in their own way, we're entirely different to each child. We tend, we nourish, we problem-solve a million times a day, we are the glue holding our families in balance. We are incredibly weak and shattered by the things that are bigger than we can hold together; we are unimaginably strong, each of our fractures held together with an invisible force field made by our love, our children's love for us, our husband's love and undergirding it all, our Father's tender heart, holding us close. We mother well because we have a Father who sustains us. He gives the gifts and we fool ourselves into thinking we are somehow worthy or adequate or competent, while also being terrified that someone will see through our facade and point out our failings. What a blessed mercy to not need to have it all together! He holds us together. We hold our children's hands imperfectly, we are held with perfect grace, with trustworthy strength, with healing comfort. We rest in the middle of our exhaustion, we lean back against the breast of the only One who has all we need and gladly gives, abundance running over into our laps, lavishly, more than we can imagine. We can love because we are loved so very well.
