She moves with automaticity,
an art form in its own right.
She’ll work all day after a
somewhat sleepless night.
She’s up with the kids,
or just right before.
She wants to have everything perfect
before they rush out the door.
She irons clothes, packs lunches
and writes sweet little notes.
She helps tiny fingers zip up their coats.
She bends down to wipe chocolate
from a chubby little face.
She stoops down to tie a ragged shoe lace.
She will kiss them good-bye and they will be on their way
and she will dive into her jam-packed day.
She knows all to well what this day will hold.
Dishes to wash and laundry to fold.
Then there’s grocery shopping that’s economical
and healthy to eat,
followed by errands to run and a teacher to meet.
She hasn’t even glanced in the mirror today,
and if she did she would be discouraged from
seeing that her hair is getting gray.
Her wrinkles are creeping in and she
feels so very plain,
yet she puts a smile on her face
you won’t here her complain.
Her sighs slip out unintentionally and
surprise her a bit.
She laughs at herself, knowing
she doesn’t have time for a hissy fit.
She momentarily wishes for
a moment’s peace and perhaps even quiet.
But she pushes that feeling down deep
and instead tries to hide it.
The kids will be home soon and
she knows full well,
they will have homework to do,
and a thousand words to spell.
She will help with addition and read
the little ones books,
then she will have baths to give
and dinner to cook.
She’s unappreciated by most and
usually doesn’t mind
but tonight she has emotions
of a different kind.
She’s weary from fulfilling
the needs of others
and she feels guilty for being tired
from just being “mother”.
She wonders if God’s disappointed
because she is feeling this way
and tries to be thankful
for this ordinary day.
She longs for peace and rest
for her tired soul,
she doesn’t have to say it at all,
her Father already knows.
So she waits until her children
are sleeping peacefully in bed,
and she rushes to bow down
before Jesus and be spiritually fed.
The task of raising children
is the greatest calling one can receive
and she can do it with honor and grace,
with heavenly reprieve.
She knows her greatest legacy will be
the children she will raise,
and she will do it with joy in her heart,
a continuous song of praise.
The peace she longs for won’t be found
in a spotless house or the air of quiet.
She can’t wish it or think it,
no money can buy it.
She knows it is found by resting
in God’s Holy Spirit.
His peace is all around when
she is quiet enough to hear it.
The peace she is looking for is found
when she holds her sweet little ones,
when she is “clothed with strength and dignity
and she can laugh at the days to come”.
She rises up in prayer
in her whole armor of God.
no need to fake everything is all right
or put on a fancy facade.
God’s peace can be found amidst sticky floors
and screaming kids running in the house, down the hall
His peace IS the calm in the midst of it all.
So, she smiles to herself and thanks God for the reminder.
No matter how low she seems to get, he always seem to find her.