On Motherhood.

For you,

I lay down my darkness.

When it calls,

I turn my back;

refuse the siren call of my escape.

Only,

for you.

Because,

in your eyes,

I see the only light that shines kindly on my

empty places.

You,

are my

redemption.

 

 

Look up, dear friend.

Look up, dear friend, look up.

Though your heart is

crushed

with the weight of broken dreams,

the earth is reminding you

that even the

barest branches bloom again,

in season.

When April is over.

Can you hear me whisper above the white noise of endless therapies and appointments with clever people, who know how to fix that, which is (apparently) broken within you?

Hear me, sweet boy of mine:

“You are not broken. You are a sweet perfection that the world could never truly appreciate. Never in a year of Aprils could they ever see the beauty that is the gift of you.”

A Word of Hope for when You feel Bruised and Broken.

Hope for the bruised one who worships on the fringes of faith.

Afraid to come closer.

Afraid of coming empty-handed and broken-hearted.

You are seen.

You are loved.

Even though your head is bowed low and you are running on empty.

God sees you.

You are enough,

for Him.

 

A bruised reed He will not break,
and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out,
till He has brought justice through to victory.

Matthew 12:20 NIV