There are these days of motherhood that threaten to absolutely break you.
Completely crumble you to pieces.
Shake you to your core.
Split your heart in two.
And bring you to your knees.
Days you feel like you can carry no more.
When you feel as though you've quietly checked out.
Completely unknowingly.
Because you simply feel as though you have no more to give.
Running on the fumes of your fumes.
Legs like Jell-O.
Eyes continuously brimmed with tears.
Back aching.
Days flooded with raised voices. And patience that never showed up. Days of stains, spills and all-things cereal. And only-mama's-hip-will-do.
Days when nothing is right.
And mama just can't fix what's wrong.
Days of nothing but noise.
And not a moment to yourself.
Frantic.
Frazzled.
Overwhelmed.
Under-rested.
Exhausted.
To the bones.
Yet on those days, there comes this moment.
An end-of-the-day inhalation.
A deep, all-encompassing breath.
Wrapped in doubt.
Blanketed in grace.
Flooded with mercy.
Covered in forgiveness.
Respiring the entirety of the day's wake.
In a single breath.
Every tiny moment.
Every single second.
Every tear.
Every laugh.
Every reprimand.
Every sigh.
Every fear.
Every joy.
Silently engaging in an entire heart-to-heart with her Maker; without a single word uttered. A heart-to-heart that involves no conversation at all.Yet, completely understood.
Just a mama's soul, to her Creator's ears.
But, what a mama doesn't know, on a day just like this...is that every night, as she quietly breathes in, her heart is secretly refilled. By the One Who wove her together from mere dust. A transient moment, from Heaven to her most intimate spirit. As her tank feels depleted, and she’s yearning for the strength to do it all over again. The hidden moment, when He quietly sends His unconditional strength straight back into the depths of her soul.
Picking her up and piecing her back together.
Fiber-by-exhausted-fiber.
Allowing her to exhale, once more.
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