She is Called Mother

Sometimes all you can do is open your hands, receive the gift....and say thank you.

Sometimes thank you is all you have to give...and not even in the form of a card.

Just a hug, a meagre smile and a thank you.

A thank you to the friend that showed up weeks before the move.

Told you what to organise where and when.

And then showed up those weeks and packed like a maniac.

And unloaded and unpacked and positioned couches and worked it all out lovely in her mind.

Oh, and she's teaching you to garden.

Oh, and she's homeschooling one...and teaching art too.

But there she is helping you...still.

She is called mother.

And all you have is thank you.

A thank you to the dear one who brought you meals the two days it took you to move in.

And enough to eat later for left overs.

She has been on her knees and prayed for you.

She took your fire and ice boy for a night and kept the littlest one too though she had 3 at home too.

She teaches with her life and her lips.

She is a wonder.

She is called mother.

And all you have is thank you.

A thank you to the one still bringing meals.

Who is a women who knows your inmost battles.

And is after the Lord with her whole heart.

She calls, e-mails, encourages, prays and prays and prays.

Hers are grown.

She has grands.

She is called mother.

And all I have is thank you.

A thank you to those friends and family that check in.

They call though you don't have the time now to call or back.

Those ones that you know pray though you don't talk every single day or often even.

They love.

They support.

They are called mother too, well most of them.

And all you have is thank you.

Oh, and the one who gave you life.

Who remembered that you were life.

And though circumstances were not all that she wanted them to be...

She gave you life anyway.

And she trusted that you were His.

That He would save you in His time.

She waited.

She watched.

She trusted.

She's your mother.

And you can never repay her. Ever.

And thank you just will never be enough.

The weight of grace can be heavy when you believe it must be paid back.

The freedom of grace is humbling when you realise that you never can, nor will, nor even want to.

It is given.

And it is taken.

It is a gift.

Never to be repaid.

 

So today, mother-friends of mine.

Know that I see you.

Your struggle.

Your pain.

Your laughing eyes.

Your love for our Savior.

And though a million thank yous can never be enough.

Jesus is.

He surly is.