28 June 2018
shifting and shaping.
thunder is booming beyond the window and francis is napping the deep slumber of a rainy day. his lips pulse in familiar cadence: he is dreaming of milk. i have poured coffee (still hot, found joy) and settled into my beloved perch in the eastern window (natural light, view of sunflowers) with intention of finally, finally gathering words on our time in italy and weaving our stories. instead i find myself hooked by this particular photograph from florence. golden hour on the ponte vecchio through the eyes of my husband.
i think how my mouth is hers, and how this means all the more to me now that i see that his hands are hers. i think how pleased she'd be that we are travelers. i think how my eyes are a bit sleepy, but good gracious, how happy. how peaceful. how home.
the voyage into motherhood asks everything: all of my spirit, all of my body, all of my energy, all of my heart.
and yet. what it asks, it returns to me hundred-fold. i emerge richer in spirit and stronger in body and fuller in heart. expanded and transported. shifted and shaped. hands humbled, eyes heavenward. motherhood is soul-swelling and transformative. it unearths quieted pain and holds a mirror to my fears. it refines everything i know about service and love. it deepens everything i believe about god and eternity. i understand for the first time in my life what a mother's heart can be: the softest place on earth.
the world spins madly on, yet my soul remains centered, and extraordinary truth blooms: the more i give of myself, the more myself i become.