Posts Tagged: motherhood

You Knit Motherhood

You Knit Motherhood

You Knit Motherhood

On this day
You knit motherhood into my soul.
Sweeping away cobwebs
Of brokenness and rebellion.
Filling my world
With vivid colors I grew up missing.
You deepened my breath,
Made me reach deeper inside
For strength I had never explored,
Laughter never expressed,
Hope unquenchable
By death.
On this day
You made me a mother.
Not even the grave can swallow
My joy.

Turning Your Page

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.

Psalm 139:13

Birthdays are beautiful opportunities to remember your loved one forward. Below are some suggestions I have done. Feel free to add to the list in the comments with how you remeber your loved one while pressing into making new memories.

  • Create a memorial garden
  • Take a family hike
  • Share a meal at their favorite restaurant
  • Encourage a neighbor
  • Visit someone who is lonely
  • Write a poem or story
  • Share funny stories
  • Plant a tree

Lord, this is the special day you made for me to remember my child. May nothing steal that joy and help me to press into the live you have given me. Amen

For Further Reading: Resurrecting Motherhood

 

A Resourse for Grief

Is Motherhood Worth The Climb?

I could have stopped climbing motherhood,
after you fell.
Sat in the crag of grief
and let death bury my scarred soul. 

We were supposed to view this summit together.
Your spirit strengthened and equipped,
ready for the difficult ascents of adulthood.
Teaching your siblings life is worth the climb.

You were my first heartbeat of adventure.
My own fearful expanse of the impossible
became a vibrant vista of God because
you lived.

The struggles of life became another rock to conquer.
And we did. I breathed joy more deeply because
we grappled circumstances. Our pain revealed
gems of truth—life to the fullest.

The muscles of motherhood burned 
when I first stretched out 
for the next handhold of hope after your death.
The ache of loss—you lived—crumbled resolve beneath my feet.

Did I make a mistake in motherhood?

No, you grew in the rich valley of youth.
Stumbled, yes, but you scrambled back up, eager to learn.
I look back at your tiny fingers wrapped
around mine as I swung you up and wiped your tears.
Every struggle was worth it.

The foothills became treacherous mountains.
Required sturdier equipment, a deeper trust, training, and
faith without seeing.
I watched you climb further away, testing
footholds that would not sustain. 

Was letting you go a mistake?

I wipe my dusty tears and jump
to the next ledge of trust.
I was never meant to make
secure your every step.
God you are faithful.
Sturdier in grief, because I loved.

Did I fail motherhood?

So many missteps.
I watched in agony as your grip on life loosened. Motherhood
stretched and strained to breaking. I prayed.
Pleaded. Don’t give up. God catch him!
Your life was a sunrise worth experiencing.

Does motherhood end?

No, because love always remembers life.
Your laughter echoes
in the canyons of my sorrow,  the memories
of your beautiful, valuable, life
stirs my warrior cry of joy.

Was it worth it?

I climb this mountain of motherhood—gut it out to the fullest
because my scraped knees of prayer
and bruised soul of faith
testify life is sacred, come what may.

Motherhood is worth the climb,
even if I see the vistas of heaven
without you.

Motherhood is Worth the Pain

Turning Your Page

… but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

John 19:25-27, ESV

Motherhood tests every spiritual and physical muscle you have. Your children may be grateful. They may hate you. Keep a short account. Be humble to admit when you are wrong. Embrace, love and hold them when their hearts are broken by this life. Celebrate life.

Do your best to steward your children, but know their life is their own. Motherhood is worth every bump, bruise, and yes, sometimes even loss.

  • What is motherhood like for you right now? Be honest with any bitterness you feel. Record what you love about moments with your children.
  • Pray for your children by name. Stormie Omartian has books that guide scripture prayers over your children. These are an immense help and encouragement in spiritual battles.
  • Your children have an enemy and they need you to fight well. Equip yourselves and gather others to pray and support you.
  • Write a story, poem, or list out scriptures that describe motherhood.

Father, motherhood is a mixture of pain and joy, love, and sacrifice. Help me to value the good moments and let go of attempting to control the outcome for my children. May your love be enough. Amen

A Mother’s Scream

Hold me Lord, as grief
empties me of child,
and yanks soul to the floor.
Cover my naked sorrow with
your lullaby of peace,
and drench me in your
tears of understanding.

Turning Your Page

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

Matthew 6:28, ESV

Life, as you expected, may have just crumbled. Tears. Jesus sobs with you. That loss you think he doesn’t care about, that you judge as God’s cruelness, heaven mourns. Not a sparrow. Not a sweet child leaves this earth without his knowing. Without his weeping the losss.

  • Who in your circle of influence is mourning a loss today? Cry with them. Hold them in the bone crushing shock of grief. Comfort with the comfort you have been given.
  • If you don’t yet know how to comfort another in their loss, slow down, study scripture, and ask God to guide you. Ask others who have grieved what brought them the most comfort.

Lord, teach my soul to mourn with those that mourn, and rejoice with those who rejoice. Amen

Clocking In

I didn’t quit my job of loving, when you stopped punching your time card.

I clock in to life,  heart uncallused by the

rough, 24-hour, work of losing. I freely

hope, with splinters of grief digging deep into my soul.

Faith, joy and compassion embrace the world

with a work ethic that suicide cannot render

unconscious to the world around me.

Inside a Suicide Mom’s Locket

Suicide took future pictures of you

So I open the locket of my soul wide.

And share who you were

Not who you will be.

 

I trace chubby cheeks, as the rhythm

of the rocker sings you to sleep. Breathe

deeply your baby scent.

I squeal with delight at first steps and words.

Bandage scrapes, wipe tears, and kiss bruises.

I listen to life beating hard with

challenges no child should bear,

and ache for God to heal you inside and out.

 

God, I try to understand why you allowed this unfinished

work of art to be painted into my life.

 

Today, I have no calls from your college dorm, no

laughter as you burst through the door for Christmas.

No bride on your arm, for me to share funny stories with,

and no grandchildren for me one day to cherish . . .

 

These are the things I can’t quite release. I long

for them. I had hoped for them. So I open my heart

wider still, until joy paints a new picture into  the

empty memories of where you should be.

Hope is a Little Girl in Red Pigtails

Hope is a little girl in red pigtails,

flitting ahead of weary motherhood,

inviting flight into crisp blue bird bath of

joy.

Alighting long enough for plump morsels of life.

until branches offers new heights of perspective.

“Up here she tweets”, bouncing excitedly.

Calling me from the security of nesting, to explore

what hope scouts ahead.

 

 

 

No Regrets, Mother Mary

If I could reach back and trace the pink face not yet

troubled and embroiled in years, stroke little fingers,

And nuzzle dependent heart, would it make a difference in your dying?

 

No.

 

There should be no surprise—obeying God leads to rolling the dice with men.

I carried complete power and total submission in my womb nine months.

But, even as I nursed truth, I struggled

to die to motherhood.

The cross was born of my obedience.

 

Your heart now beats in the tender words spoken to

the desperate and despised. We fellowship with bread offered

to empty bellies.

Our hope is planted, watered, and grows in resurrected soil.

And I breathe. . . Oh, my soul breathes

deeply the fragrance of your presence with me. The cross did not

separate us, it made us one!

You live in the past, present, and future, and I find you in the gutters of obedience.

 

 

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If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or go to the website at  SuicidePreventionLifeline.org.