Family

TO MOTHERHOOD

I have to admit, when I was compiling images for this post I started to tear up. 

Motherhood.

It's kissing away boo-boos and wiping messy cheeks. Spinning littles around and around and up in the air to hear them giggle and shout 'again!'. It's straightening the superman cape, and pouring an extra glass of milk. Changing diapers, supporting their newborn necks and countless loads of tiny laundry. It's holding them in the hospital bed rejoicing in the miracle of their life, and praying before their surgery that the Lord would give you strength. It's taking adventures, reading stories and answering endless 'why?' questions.  It's straightening the veil and threading the needle to hem the gown, pinning the boutonniere and taking photos of the first dance through joyful tears. It's saying no and it's letting go. It's restless nights and so many moments of hoping you got it right. It's so much more. Beyond words, really. 
It's always and forever, up to the moon and back, all-consuming, hard-as-hell, deepest of the deep and miraculous.

OUR SIMPLE STORIES: THE LITTLEST TEACHERS

One of the most profound things about children is the simplicity of their presence and how they remind us of the wonder of our existence. There is no greater excitement than when the drool-covered lips of a baby turn upward and they spark their first smile. The simplest of human expressions, one we see hundreds of times a day without remark, and yet when an infant does it for the first time we rejoice and remember it’s power and the gift of relationship and connection.  And really on it goes with each milestone that these little ones reach. The movements and motions that often go without thought are celebrated when first done by a child. What if in those moments we allow these little ones to teach us to see the simplicity and beauty of what it means to be alive; to be a member of the human family, uniquely individual and yet undeniably dependent on one another. Putting one foot in front of the other is actually quite remarkable, no?

OUR SIMPLE STORIES : STRAWBERRY PICKING

 

I whipped the cream as the buttery crust baked in the oven.  After dinner, their little fingers excitedly arranged the freshly picked strawberries on top (sneaking a little taste here, and an extra strawberry there.) 

We gathered around the table and Daniel asked, "who do we have to thank for this pie?"  Immediately the children answered, "Mommy!"
"Yes!," he said. but then pressed further: "And who else?"
After thanking themselves for picking the berries and helping assemble the pie, 
"The farmer who grew the strawberries!" said one,  "Anya who gave us the recipe!", said another.
"And ..." Daniel continued, "who made the strawberry, and the rain that watered it, and the sun that fed it? and the cow that gave us the cream for the filling and the butter for the crust?"
"God!"They both shouted! 

There is nothing like gathering a crop fresh from the earth to help you appreciate the incredible miracle food is and the many hands and hearts that help us fill our tables with sustenance and stories.

Writer and professor Norman Wirzba says that "Food is God's love made delicious," and I don't think you need to eat much more than a ripe strawberry picked right from the patch - or maybe a slice of Anya's strawberry pie - to know that this is true.