The Little Details….Evidence that “Love really does Live Here”

It is always such that when my children are away from me for extended periods, which is a rare occurrence, my thoughts give sway to the little details I miss when they surround me.  I am not certain why that happens….maybe that is God’s way of breathing life back into a Mom’s life to refresh and renew her for the times when child and Mom are together. Perhaps it is for her to re-grow a GRATEFUL heart for these gifts God has given her.

This focusing on the little details does not happen all of a sudden, the minute the children leave..bustling out the door, overnight bags in hand, quick goodbyes and brief hugs given…in daughter’s case an “I love you…work hard” or “have fun” as she heads out to work or on a date.

It happens quietly mostly.

As I lay in bed, it comes in the non-noise of the house, where little IPods normally would play in the morning or in the non-singing in the shower as children are not here to get ready for the next event in their life.

Doors to bedrooms normally closed, almost shut, are wide-mouth opened as if to shout…they are not here today…they are off on a grand adventure!

I notice things not more, but differently, when my children are not warming the heart of our home…and, it is in the littlest of ways that I know they are off..

I hear the birds at our window singing as if to keep me company in the absence of children’s speak.

I peek out windows and see leaves on ledges, evidence of the coming of Fall and reminding me of once-little hands which drew and hung leaves in our kitchen…a Fall art project.

I walk past daughter’s room and see evidence of her college life in the books and homework laying on the bed which is mingled with the blue of medical uniforms awaiting laundering and the smell of the sweet scent which is reminiscent of a walk down a peach grove in Georgia.  My daughter’s room is like opening a treasure box of all the things which matter to her in life….blanketed around her space like a bracelet around her heart.

I walk softly and barefoot down the hall to my oldest-by-thirteen minutes- son to find a neat and tidy abode with posters no mother really appreciates but allows as his expression of free speech.  This son is a worker as evidenced by golden arch uniforms and he is a lover of books of which there are many.  Locked up boxes and treasure chests from his youth are given places of honor among the adult wallet, phone chargers and favorite photo of our beloved family dog.  It is a man-child room with equal blending of manly necessities and childish treasures. 

Finally, at the end of the hall I walk to my youngest-by-thirteen minutes-son’s room.  Neatness and tidiness is not his goal as is evidenced by a room whose inhabitant flys in and out of it in a fast and furious flurry.  Sports gear is all thrown to one side, date night clothing sport a spot on the desk.  Books are not so abundant but treasures are.  Notes to and from a girlfriend, rocks collected as a little boy, wet stone given to remind him of a recent service adventure to Whetstone Boys Camp.  Bed clothes barely mussed, clothes hardly hung, clearly this son spends many hours elsewhere in the house but it holds a warmth and manly scent of a boy becoming a man which lingers out his door and down the hall.

And, in those little moments when my prayers for my children flows through their hallway and upon their room, I pause in gratefulness.  They are not perfect children, but they are mine. 

Is this, I ask myself in the quiet, how God feels about us?

It is a gift I do not take in even the slightest, lightest fashion.

I like to think I know them well.  I pray I know them some.

Mothering a child is a humble occupation.  Whether you stay at home with your babies or work outside the home, I am not sure it matters.  What matters is that you live in authenticity and truth with them.

You can only do that if you hold their hand and walk with God.

You can only do that if you personally are walking with God.

It is the one thing a mother can do which will make all the difference to her children.  Walk….constantly, consistently and whole-heartedly with God.

I am growing past the stage of needing to constantly remind myself and everyone around me that YES, I know that I have failed in this endeavor many times.  That, no, not even in the slightest measure, have I been the perfect mother.  It is no longer my goal. Now, my goal is to be honest with my children about my imperfections and point them to Him who is perfect….but greater still, who does not expect in them perfection, but rather in glorifying. Him.

So, on this Sunday, as my children spend time away from me, I am grateful.

That God would so find it in his heart to entrust me with such a treasure….

I am humbled beyond measure.

I am grateful beyond words.

And, I pray that never do I take lightly this gift of Motherhood….

That all of the little details HE sets in our home to remind me of what a blessing I have been given, are etched upon my heart in such a way as to carry me through when life would ask that I forget…

What great treasures I have been given….

Blessings,

Lesa