I have three sons.
Each one is so completely themself.
I have a wild and free, bold and brazen, tender hearted oldest son.
I have a funny, courageous, imaginative, friendly, and sweet middle son.
I have a curious, loud, observant, and interactive youngest son.
I love each of these boys so fiercely that my heart aches from the weight of it. My mind is so often consumed with the gravity of my position in their little lives.
Mama.
A word with such intense connection and lasting impression. Mothers shape and create from conception far into adulthood. Good or bad, Mama is who we hear internally our entire lives. Her voice intertwining, emeshing, becoming one with our own internal narrative.
How in the world can I live up to all that means? I can’t. I truly cannot.
All I know to do these days is lean heavily upon my knowledge of His great love towards these little lives I help guide daily. His intense love will cover my failures. His intense love with prevent the wounds I leave from festering with infection. His great love will swallow up any anger, or pride, or bitterness I sow.
Dear Lord,
In Your great mercy, I plead with You. Please forgive my shortcomings and help my boys to draw nearer to You than their own mother. May they lean heavily upon Your bosom. May they hear Your heartbeat from a young age. If I do anything for them at all, may it be that I pointed them towards You.
I am not.
You are the I am.
Wholly Mom,
