Tuesday, November 29, 2011

miracle enough

I am a mother.

I do not raise the dead.  I do not preach to the masses or heal the sick or call down fire from Heaven.

I do not manage budgets or prepare proposals or find creative solutions for much of anything unless finding a new place to store the crayons is a creative solution.

I do not even wear lipstick.  I certainly don't bring home the bacon.

I sweep up cheerios.  I carry a child on my hip.  I stir the soup.  I sing them to sleep.

I turn out the light and pray big deep sighing prayers and shut the door and whisper thank-you thank-you thank-you- this prayer that is lifted- scooped from the very deepest part of me like the wand that scrapes the very bottom of the bottle to be poured out with a breath, and my whole insides, my very deepest thanks and aches and longing lift into hallelujah.  This is what I do.

And isn't this enough?

This daily picking up.  Daily stirring.  The daily hallelujah.

And every day, there is the dying.

Every day I die a little more, am raised to life a little more; isn't this miracle enough?

When I thought I had right to my body, my space, my sleep, my two hours of quiet in the afternoon; and one by one like blocks they fell and I complained and demanded, scheduled and disciplined and now am able to sigh and say it's okay; isn't this miracle enough?

When I was iron and he was iron and at two in the morning all we could do was clang and spark and sometimes we felt like giving up but slowly we are melting, molding together and into one another; isn't this miracle enough?

When I coddled wounds like kittens, against my breast.  When I lay awake too many nights begging God for the ability to forgive that I did not possess, and one day reaching into my pocket to stroke a stone I find they've turned to petals; isn't this miracle enough?

Daily, I am saved.  Daily, I am being saved, sanctified.

Daily, I call down fire from Heaven and it destroys me, cleanses me.

Daily mothering I die a little more and daily mothering I live.

It is miracle enough.

This post was inspired by "women saved through childbearing" - at Practical Theology for Women.

I am linking up today with Heather, "Just Write."


Heather EO said...

This is breath-taking. Beautiful. I love your words. Thank you, Jess.

Fijufic said...

You easily possess the most difficult and cherished title bestowed upon mankind.

You are a mother. There is nothing more important.


Krishann said...

I'm with Heather. Such beautiful and heartfelt words.

Ruth said...

Wow, Jess, this is so beautiful. Like so much of what you write, it brought tears to my eyes. Wow.

deb colarossi said...

This is just so everything.

I am slowly slowly trying to catch up...
and switching all my stuff to my new laptop, thx for your patience.

and thanks for your kind words always.