the world was heavy, too

 the world was heavy, too, when I was young;

but the magic of light in the leaves, of wind in the ferns was dear company;

and the rosy cloak of golden hour wrapped me up in reverie.

the world is heavy still, and spring just as sweet;

for the green, budding leaves and cool mornings still make my heart sing;

and in the solemn stillness- low, rumbling, anxious- of an approaching storm, I feel seen.

To be continued…

susie smiles

 

Your joyful smile

makes it a little easier

to get up in the morning.

I stumble out of bed,

feel around for my glasses,

and open your door.

You cry out with a happy voice,

eyes wide with delight

when you see me coming.

I yawn and smile, too.

Your silly smile

makes the day brighter,

as you wiggle on the changing table

and wait for me to wiggle back, 

as you peer at me around a corner,

hide your face, poke it out again,

and laugh at your joke.

I feel excited about the person you are, 

and are becoming.

I play and smile, too.

Your prideful smile

makes my heart swell with joy,

as you roll over all by yourself

and your face lights up,

amazed at each new thing

you find that you were made to do.

You smile, triumphant,

and look to see if I’m watching.

I clap and smile, too.

Your excited smile

makes me more grateful

when you see your dad come home,

and nearly shake with excitement.

your grin gets so big

and your arms stretch out to be held.

He lifts you up on his shoulders 

and you squeal happy sounds.

I love him and smile, too.

Your sleepy smile

makes me remember the good

as you drift off in my arms

with a tummy full of milk,

and I imagine what happy dreams

you are having.

I think back on the day

and what memories you’ve made.

I hold you tight and smile, too.

patient

 my heart longs for you

then drifts away.

i pour my sorrows at your feet,

and then forget to pray.

i marvel at your faithfulness,

then turn and complain.

and yet through all of this,

you are patient with me.

break

 

is it wrong

that i just want a break?

it was a random Wednesday

when they sent me to labor and delivery

and told me I’d be having a baby

six weeks early.

now we’ve been living in a hospital

for weeks

and we know our way around,

we know the staff and the routines.

the plans on my calendar

all erased,

now I’m sitting here in this new life

in this strange place-

this hospital room,

the only home you’ve ever known,

with other babies crying all around,

and strangers coming in 

pressing their cold stethoscopes to your skin

startling you awake from sleep,

you cry and fuss and the monitors beep,

baby girl, don’t forget to breathe.

we weigh you before and after

every time you try to feed

to see how much you took

and how much you still need,

they give it to you through a tube

as you sleep.

hooked up to all of these machines,

this is not how it should be.

I’m learning how to take care of you,

you’re learning to live outside the womb.

we’re in this together

and there’s no going back. 

you’re beautiful,

but you cost everything I have.

I feel exhausted

and my body aches.

it breaks my heart to leave you all alone,

but sometimes being here feels like more than I can take.

am i a bad mom

if I just want a break?

tired

 

carry me, Lord,

I am so tired.

I want with all my heart

to follow after you,

to love and serve

and walk the narrow path,

but I don’t know

if I can take another step.

help me, Holy Spirit,

to lay down my pride.

replace “I have to be able to do this”

with “I trust God to provide.”

I’m exhausted and I see no end,

carry me, Jesus,

be my friend.

daughter

 

daughter, I promise that I always 

will be there for you.

I’ll love you however you feel

and I’ll love you whatever you do.

I’ll come close when you cry

and I will give you what you need.

I’ll hold you tight and sing to you

as you fall asleep.

daughter, you’re loved already,

you don’t have to prove yourself to me.

now and always, you can know

you have a family.

daughter, I’ll hold you steady

when you can’t hold up your head,

I’ll comfort you and clean you up

when you make a big mess.

I’ll try hard to be patient,

gentle, loving, tender, kind,

but I know that I will fail you

and break these promises sometimes.

it breaks my heart to see you hurt

and to know that it’s my fault 

or that I cannot fix what’s wrong

or control what happens in your world.

but when I’m paralyzed with guilt

and I’ve made a big mess,

I know that I’m a daughter too

of one who’ll never break a promise.

He’ll clean me up and hold me close

and love me like I love you,

but perfectly, and so I pray

He’ll be your Father too.

watching your every movement

the smiles that flicker across your face,

holding and caring for you

I’m amazed God would love me like this-

would care for all my joys and hurts

and intimately know my frame.

He loves the weak and helpless

and He calls them by their name.

healing garden

i step into a garden

and smell the sweet fragrance

of flowers.

i see trees in an orchard

on the hill above,

swaying to the music

of the gentle breeze.

peace, be still.

there is a master composer

that wrote creation's lovely song.

i hold your tiny body

close to me,

and we feel each others' warmth.

you curl up tight

and listen to the soft drumbeat

of my heart.

remembering the womb,

you are at home.

peace, be still.

there is a creator

that knit this perfect gift together.

and though this world is broken,

and birth is toil and pain,

even here in this hospital

i see your mercies on display.

the gift of modern medicine,

the kindness of nurses and volunteers,

whoever planted this garden

for the families that are here.

the love of friends who visit us,

the beauty of your sweet face

and the time we spend together,

all illustrations of your grace.

i am so prone to worry

and forget your loving care-

so many things could all go wrong

but in these small mercies i remember-

you have carried us through the storm

and we are here.

your eyes are on the sparrows

and the flowers

and you know the number of our hairs.

teach me how to trust you

in the little moments every day.

teach me through these worries

how to pray.