point of view

I want a table that says Tell me your story I want to make meals You're not self-conscious to eat To cook for restricted, or slow, or messy eaters And a baby to cheer your view. Food is a gift! So is a good coffee Let us make you a treat or scrounge something quick. We want to give blessing we've also received We want you to to know: You're cared for You're heard We're glad you are here. Image source

This is a poem says things that many other parents have said before me. I am writing it anyway because it is new and mysterious and wonderful to me.  You think my hair is meant to help you pull in close. Your wet baby kisses extend my energy, my perseverance, far beyond the limits I thought I had. There's a look when you know you have all my attention I can't put a name to it but oh, how I hope you don't outgrow it anytime soon. Please, my Father, help me to look more like you. Please, my Father, help me to trust you like he does; expressing, unhindered by any thought that You might not want to hear, content, to know that You delight in me too.

turn off turn onto the gravel roads to wander to reach for a spray of the wildflowers, not as a taking of the fruit of another's possessions but as a recognizing welcoming the delight of sun, wind, sky mountain and plain to gather the glories in highlight their riotous worship. Yes, we see we join with the ringing, repeating song of praise! image source

Finding my voice again feels a little presumptuous What do I have to say? Only the unfinished Perhaps I'm no longer grieving, No longer longing as before Perhaps I don't dare to speak for fear the good will vaporize More likely I'm less alone these days There are two and the Lord who hear my heart these days I have become wife I have become mother Perhaps I don't dare to speak for fear of hurting those who long for these titles Perhaps I've heard some try to teach the how As if they knew it all I don't goodness, I don't. But I am learning new things I suppose we all are.