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This week’s Five Minute Friday prompt is: Mom
I have an amazing mother. One I have, and regrettably still do, taken for granted. In high school I had several mom’s. I called my friends mom’s mom, I even had a friend I called mom. It never occurred to me then, how that might have hurt my mom. Then I had kids, and I can vividly remember the first time each of them called someone else mom. They were much too young to know, and in fact to young to say much other than mom, certainly not a multiple syllable name, but still it stung. My baby, calling their babysitter mom. I immediately regretted those days in my youth, using such a powerful name on people who really hadn’t earned it.
This year, perhaps for the first time, my eyes have been opened to how hard Mother’s Day is for women, and some men, who have lost their mom’s. My mom and I get along well, and she’s there for me when I need her, but admittedly I’m more of a self reliant introvert, so I don’t turn to her as often as I could or should. Some times, weeks, or even a month goes by between conversations, for no reason other than sheer laziness and ignorance. One day, I too, will look at Mother’s Day propaganda and long for more time with my own mom. I have that time now, and need not let it go to waste!
These quick little projects, really can be so convicting. Anybody else squirm a little today? I can honestly say that once the kids are off and I think her coffee has been poured I’ll be calling my mama. Want to read more? A few weeks ago, I wrote a poem from my perspective as a mother. I reread it a few days ago, and it truly amazes me how it all poured out of my heart from two simple words that repeated over and over “Dear Daughter” as me to my girl asleep in my arms and again “Dear Daughter” is that you Lord? Here is a peek at the opening lines:
Sweet girl of mine, with wonders and dreams,
struggles and accomplishments not yet realized.
I hear you breathing
in your sleep.
I feel your hand, reaching up to my cheek,
making sure that I’m there.
And I am,
because every night, you come to me.
You crawl onto the tiniest edge of my bed and tuck your body up close to mine.
Your head, in the crook of my arm, below my chin.
It’s so much a part of our rhythm, that sometimes,
I don’t hear you come in.
I don’t immediately feel the difference,
but subconsciously, I know you are there,
I give you a small squeeze,
I kiss your forehead.
I wake up in the morning,
surprised, and yet not.
Crowded, and yet, at home.
I hope you will head over to the original post He Whispers: Dear Daughter to read more. It is a little long, but oh how much of my heart is reflected there.
Thanks again for stopping by and sharing in this journey with me. What is He whispering to you this week? I’d love to talk, so leave your pearls of wisdom below!