Something happened yesterday and it was simply incredible. I was talking to a friend about financial things. There was absolutely nothing emotionally charged about our conversation but I kept seeing something on her face. It almost looked like she had been crying. It wasn’t a mascara run but it looked like fresh tears without the glisten. I was becoming increasingly distracted by it so I finally interrupted her and said, “Have you been crying?”
I was blessed to attend a baby shower the other day. A long-awaited miracle baby. A baby of promise. The air was thick with celebration. It’s as if we all let out a collective sigh of relief that this prayer had been answered. Finally.
As we began a blessing and prayer time, I looked around the room of women and choked back a sob.
This was holy ground.
Today I licked the icing off the beaters and said out loud to no one, “Thanks, Mom.”
Thanks for letting me lick the beaters from so many cakes and icings as a child. It’s one of those traditions I passed on. And there are no children around me to fight over who gets the spatula and who gets the beater, but still, I remember.
Resurrecting Motherhood. Just the words strung together send a tingle down my spine. And yet it is the rumbling that began in my spirit three years ago? Frankly, I just haven’t had the courage to do anything to release it. And now, in the quarantined days of April 2020, I see the time is here and the I also see the very big Why.