Some say a woman's body never is the same after carrying a child. Some bear visible scars from surgical deliveries - some hidden scars from the babies who left early. I don't know the physiology of it all, but I am certain that mothering leaves an indelible mark. The spaces inside that once widened to accommodate tiny hands and feet remain - stretched full of memories. An invisible cord meandering and twisting over years and miles firmly attached - once belly to belly, now heart to heart - life flowing back and forth. Middle-of-the-night feedings now middle-of-the-night prayers.
It is a mighty thing, this mothering. Fearful and wonderful. Terrifying and precious. Consuming and nurturing. On this Mother's Day, I just want to say that the shape of me that bent to the shape of you is better than anything I could have imagined. I am forever grateful. Selah.
Psalm 139
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.