I bundled up (but not nearly enough) my family to go on a Mother’s Day hike. It was a chilly May morning as May mornings can be here in the Rockies. The snow had melted and the grass was trying to be green, but the warmer weather and spring flowers were still weeks out. While other mothers relish the spring days of this holiday, I pray for patience to be content in waiting. After 35 years of lived experience, I know without a doubt that a Colorado summer is on the way even if spring pretends to be winter.
The weather, spring-ish or not, couldn’t keep us inside – and nothing can stop a mother’s day wish – so we hiked and climbed and laughed and took pictures and looked for signs of new life. The winds picked up unexpectedly and our fingers started going numb so we turned around to go back. Alas, we were not in time. The heavens burst open and the wind turned those little raindrops into daggers on our skin! We threw all the kids into the stroller and ran as fast as we could, pressing on for warmth and protection.
Everyone was crying as we tumbled into the car. The frigid rain was pelting us without remorse , soaking Bruce and I as we willed our frozen fingers to buckle inconsolable children into their five-point harnesses.
These are the spring showers that will bring the May flowers, or at least the June flowers. Most of us laugh when we are finally safe and dry with the heat on full blast – although some of the youngest of us still quite haven’t forgiven the frozen intrusion.
Motherhood. Full of fun adventures and unexpected storms. Laughter and tears. Frozen fingers and warm hugs. Just like my dear friend Anne with an “E” says, “It’s been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will.” And I agree full heartedly. Motherhood can be enjoyed. And I do enjoy it dearly.
So, without further adieu, here is a poem on motherhood written by yours truly.
These Hands
These hands hold tissues and wipe little noses. They grasp hot coffee cups and gently guide them to waiting lips. They tuck hair behind ears and reach tiny dresses hung too high in the closet. They open fruit snacks, unscrew lids, and scrub the dishes.
These hands kneed dough, cut crafts, and fold shirts. They hold a baby up to nurse and stroke his back as he cuddles in. They part to let a tiny hand grasp tight and trace the form of God’s miraculous creation. They drape blankets, pick up blocks, and toss socks into hampers.
These hands type out responses, plug in directions, and set the thermostat. They grip the steering wheel, hit the blinker, and do motions along with the songs. They rifle through recipes, chop vegetables, and wear mitts to pull hot, fresh bread out of the oven.
These hands are raised to the sky in praise or wonder. They hug and hold, they cover eyes. They rub achy necks, brush away dirt, and nurture crumpled souls. They thumb through Bible pages warn from wear. They write prayers, dreams, and to-do lists in scribbled fonts.
These hands pick up children to set upon their lap. They allow toddler hands to flip pages back and forth in their favorite books. They find wrappers and half-eaten graham crackers and dispose of them in the trash. They sort clothes, clean windows, and repair broken toys.
These hands pull in friends tightly for a hug. They bring in the mail, write checks, send notes, and wave at the UPS man. They high-five neighbor kids and tousle hair when they smile. They ring doorbells and bring casseroles. They weed and tend and plant and sit back to watch things grow.
These hands are doing the ordinary. To most it may appear simple or mundane or unseen. But these hands are doing God’s glorious work. And these hands will magnify the Lord – for he who is mighty has done great things for me!
