Becoming a Mother

You are the one who created my innermost parts; you knit me together while I was still in my mother’s womb. I give thanks to you that I was marvelously set apart. —Psalm 139:13-14 CEB

COME DANCE WITH ME, O God, in this cumbersome, oversized waltz of new life.

I love my amazing body! It blooms and hovers over the tiny being cradled near my heart, as if already on my lap. My cravings are rehearsals for a lifetime of yearnings on behalf of this child.

Be with this child. Be with me, too; for in this conception and gestation, I’m also growing a new me, a mother—a blessed creation.

A Mother's Apology

"I am making all things new." —Revelation 21:5 NRSV

THE APOLOGY STICKS CROSSWAYS in my throat like a fishbone.

God of second chances, I blew it with the kids big time. I could explain, justify, defend—or lie or keep quiet. If I confess and apologize, what will they think of me?

The truth is, dear God, that I am just your taller, older child; that I fail; that I am sorry. Give me the courage to say so.

I am grateful for your reassuring reminder that I don’t need to be perfect, just honest. Be with me as I pass on this wisdom and your graceful promise: “I am making all things new”—even today’s blunder.

Single Mother

I have learned how to be content in any circumstance. —Philippians 4:11 CEB

GOD OF WHOLENESS, how many halves make a complete family? This is the new math of single parenting, and I’m dizzy from tallying up all the loose ends.

I often feel incomplete, for our family portrait looks as if something might be missing. Yet, O God, it’s not missing much that matters. We have love—love for one another, love for and from you, love enough to include someone else if that happens.

Relieve me of defending or compensating. There’s more than one way to add up what equals a good family—families are far more than the sum of their parts. Help me focus on what we do have.

Where Did the Years Go?

Teach us to number our days so we can have a wise heart. —Psalm 90:12 CEB

WHERE DID the years go?

I willed the children to grow up.

Hurry, hurry, I prodded. Time couldn’t go fast enough, I fretted. But, dear God, it did, taking childhood with it.

In your redeeming hands, I have mothering time again—not to go back but to go forward at a new, more enjoyable speed. Slow me down, so that I can spend these mothering days in time measured by the ticking of a grandmother’s clock—one that knows how quickly toddlers become teens, become long-distance visitors, become parents themselves.

Finally, I’ve learned to tell time.

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excerpts from: A Moment with God for Mothers by Margaret Anne Huffman Copyright©2012 by Abingdon Press. Used with permission.