A portrait of motherhood





It’s the physicality of motherhood that I find desperately challenging and overwhelmingly beautiful. The exertion of energy to lift, pull, console, and restrain empties me. Any mother can testify that most days involve a sequence of events involving lots of ups and downs-quite literally. It is this physical outpouring, in the pick-me-up, put-me-down, come close, push away that I find remarkable and oh so hard. It is with my physical body that my children feel secure and treasured, reassured and nourished. It is from my body that I am sustaining an infant.

We are in the thick of the season of Lent, and my heart is drawn to the profound overlap of it all. Self sacrificing love, a revolving door of pouring out, spiritual formation in the crux and sometimes jarring current of motherhood. I know for certain I shall return to dust, I cling to prayer in the turbulence that rattles me to the core, and I collect the pebbles of grace in the most unlikely places. Lord have mercy and Lord show me the way.  

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