What keeps a mama soft

For all the pain in labor, there is a wild joy in the birthing.  I know that, too.  For we mamas (and daddies) are partners with God Himself in the very creation of life, in the bringing forth of a piece of the Divine, a tiny scrap of immortality.  Oh, this joy…

Watching our son this weekend, shining up there onstage, I felt it; felt the joy that comes when you see the fruit. What are we after all but gardeners; tending and sowing, pruning and feeding, weeding and protecting tender shoots and praying for the harvest?  And there it was.

Over the years, there’d been plenty of labor pains with this one, Second Son, a strong-willed kid, to say it plain.  But sitting there in the darkened auditorium, he shone, and there went my heart again, swelling with pride, love, gratitude.  Thank You, Lord.

So many treasures.  So many gifts to count today.  The friends and family who came, cheering, too, and sharing our joy.  The sound of my father’s laughter over a funny line.  The way the cast – our kids – came together, all sizes, shapes, and giftings, into one magnificent whole.  The solos that stick in your head for days.  The sight of Second, preaching truth in a black robe.  Of him dancing his heart out, feet flying, face beaming.

The words.  The love.  The hugs and happy pictures.  The applause that rolled in waves, us all standing to our feet, cheering as one.

Driving out of the parking lot after the last performance, there went my heart again, feeling it keen.  Last musical.  Last time.  Last year.  Joy and sorrow, all mixed together, keeping a mama’s heart soft, pliable.  The pain of labor that keeps her turning to the One who knows it, too.

Jesus loves me, this I know.  Jesus knows me.  This, I love.