The Miracle in the Moments of Today
Mother's Day Reflections, Looking Back (from May 13, 2007)...
So this is Mother’s Day, and in a sweeping desire to be loved and needed, my three girls are all together – sobbing, congested with a cold, teething, weepy, clingy, and generally needy. Sounds like daughters taking after their mother? They are never aware of special days like this, although the miracles in moments of today create that magic. However, those ordinary adventures of daily routine signify their dependence and love. My first-born can easily verbalize and gently strokes my arm, ending the moment with a soft pat. “Hi, Mama,” she whispers, and offers her newest smile, kind of fake, but just as cute. She tries to be genuine with snot running down her nose.
Meanwhile, I am fixing her a quesadilla with grapes and oranges, while alternating between a crying second-born, who is suddenly only content in my arms or in the bouncy seat, yet that bouncy seat is now where my third-born wails, pulling at her uncomfortable, cutting gums. I realize even as children are seemingly pooping and unhappy – intermixed with hilarious moments of beautiful expressions of love – they will not always need me in such a physical way, so dependent and entirely desiring.
Even as this Mother’s Day consists of arduous care for my children, along with love and genuine appreciation from my sweet husband, with cards and flowers and dinner, I realize that someday I will be sending warm mothering congratulations to my daughters, when they are surrounded by families of their own.
For now, I revel in the moment, in today’s gift. I notice my daughters watching, adoring, and admiring, as I cuddle, enjoy, and feed them; and as they play contentedly in moments of real delight. And I stroke their faces, and inhale their fresh, authentic, innocent scent, and thank the Lord for this gift of mothering, for His entrusting me with their lives. They can be immersed in a game, then suddenly gaze at me, and beam. They break my fortresses of pain, guilt, and fear; simply with a huge, toothy grin. I smile back. I am home. C.M.