Inspiring Moments

Inspiring Moments...They come often, and quietly.

I turn and God gives inspiration in the moments that take my breath.

My children and the hope that glistens on the edges of their growing bodies as I see glimpses of goodness coming from my mothering and our parenting.

The sweet turns to sweat when I hear them love, laugh, obey, and live contently.

Inspiration, often like breathing, comes and goes with only whispers and when it comes God wisks you forward, keeps you going. He simply moves you when you feel unable to move.

It is the carrying He does when I need to train them, the movement towards the vacuum for the third time that day, the still, quiet moments you sit to read to them and they listen...

Inspiration appears with many feelings and wearing many faces and comes in various times and seasons.

Ann's words, a source of inspiration He often uses in my life as I hear her speak the words my heart sings...

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Motherhood’s a daily bravery. I can’t say that I don’t waver.

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As she, Ann, talks of her youngest daughter I think upon my oldest son, soon turning six and the world of infancy being stolen from him like a thief and manhood rising up inside my boy-child.

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I smile though it hurts. Mothers do this...

It’s like standing on the platform of the caboose, watching all the slipping world — when did they unfold out of me and into almost adults? Where do dimples on little hands go and how do you get back to the folds of necks and sweaty, sleep creased cheeks on your shoulder and when did all our beginnings become more like endings?

Why is it that the babies may birth the girl-child into womanhood? How do I make my way deep into womanhood without the babies, without a child clutching to me — or is it me, clutching a child? I need to know this. Some days I feel so bare and alone. A babe on the hip, clenched hands on the collar of my shirt, fingers on skin, this was a way to breathe. Do I forget that it is Christ who has grown me up through the babes made into men? And now, them near grown, we may both walk brave?

This is what I have always wanted, here in the hidden places. For the Holy Beautiful to use the wholly broken to shape a piece of eternity. And that need not happen somewhere else but wherever here is. This can happen at a sink, a stove, a kneeling smile into a child hopeful — the way the hands serve silent and daily.

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My heart aches and rejoices with such inspiration...my children growing longer, leaner, and lovely...

Although mine are not "near grown" I feel time wrestling me for them...his grip tight upon their bodies as they stretch and grow...

I hear true her words:

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Living slow never killed time like hurrying does

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Be inspired....
Slow the pace....
Grow slowly and steadily...
Soak it in and sink it deep...