Some moms look at the same brown eyes,
Night after night,
With bath time and bedtime stories.
She knows the distinct voice of her children.
She knows how they like their sandwiches cut.
She knows how they like their hair braided.
She knows their favorite color.
These children feel as much a part of her as her very skin.
Though delicate and gentle,
These moms will defend their children as if their very being depends on it.
Some moms take on a role of discovering her children.
Her body did not make them,
YOU chose them for her.
She looks at a variety of eyes—blue, brown, green.
She has learned a soft way of being that allows the little one to share their loves.
How long does it take to discover what they like?
How long does it take to voice it?
It doesn’t matter how long, she will wait.
She becomes an expert in the things said and the things unsaid.
Guessing in this mysterious dance of knowing…learning.
There is a role of mom, and then there is an essence.
A way of being that invites.
A way of being that is safe.
An effortless, echoing, unspoken,
Tell me more.
The Moms of Many,
Open their homes and their hearts to whoever needs them.
To the young, and to the old.
To the joyous and to the sad.
The easy, and the tough.
She will scoop them up, bandage their knee, wipe their tears and make them lemonade.
She won’t know how much sugar to put in,
But will make lemonade 1000x over until she finds the right recipe for this little one.
Mom of many…
Lord teach us how. Teach us how to exude You in every fiber of our being.
Discover and re-discover the children You put in front of us.
How can we care well when they did not come from us?
How will we know all we need to know?
You’ll teach us.
Give us energy to make us one more batch of lemonade.
Protect our hearts when the littles reject us.
Give us wisdom to hear what they cannot say. See what they cannot see.
Give us vision to care in the ways You would.
Bring us another,
Until we are all home with You.