Five Minutes of She

I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday today, because it's Friday and because I have approximately five minutes to be on the computer this morning.

Here's how it works-Write for 5 mintues flat for pure unedited love of the writeen word. Link back to our hostess, Lisa Jo Baker, and invite others to join the party. Then leave a comment to the writer who linked just before you.  If you're reading here, why not play along?

Today's word is-She

huh?

Yikes!

Okay-here we go...

She locked eyes with herself in the form of a newborn baby girl. She held a miracle in her arms. She felt every inch of her being expand and make room.  She knew in that moment what it meant to say your heart is so full it might burst.

She grew up beside the golden haired girls she had birthed. She relished the rocking and the singing and the scent of a freshly bathed toddler. The princess crowns and the ballet slippers. The homework at the kitchen table, and the let's pretend, and the word momma said aloud by a pony tailed miniature version of herself.

She held soft little girl hands and got a peek into their souls via car ride conversations and bedtime prayers. She colored and painted and giggled and played. She talked and listened, and marveled at the turning of the years and the deepening of the well.

She prepared a thousand lunches and wiped a dozen tears. She bandaged skinned knees and soothed wounded hearts.  She read a million books and laughed ten hundred times ten hundred.

She packed boxes and memories and moved them from the midwest to the east coast to the other side of the pond and back again.  She held on to the promise I will never leave you or forsake you, and felt the truth of those words as she logged miles from familiar.

She made birthday cakes and appointments and mistakes and a home. She loved the barefoot teenager, guitar in hand, and the brave one too who inspired with strength and determination and self-discipline.

She loved the holidays and the everydays and she laughed more than she cried.

She prayed for wisdom and patience and eyes to see, and she smelled the roses, lived the minutes, and let her heart be grateful.

She let the chord out slowly, deliberately, sometimes fearfully, but still she ungripped her hand and let it all the way out, and it was in the letting out and letting go, she got back ten thousand times ten thousand.

She bows her head in thankfulness and stands in awe of a God who created the glorious scary beautiful messy funny blessed thing called motherhood.