Priorities are hard to keep in line. We often need reminders to turn our heads back to what matters. To remind us of the good, the beautiful, and the sacred. And to remind us to find the good, the beautiful, and the sacred in the bad, the ugly, and the profane.
My most frequent reminders are the feel of a strong wind on a cool autumn day. The smell of the salt water coming in from the harbour. Conversation with a good friend. A well written book, eagerly devoured. A pout covered face on a little four year old girl with all the seriousness of her past and all the joyful abandon of her age.
She reminds me of what is truly important. She reminds me of the value of an open heart. When I see pictures of her, captured moments of her life, I remember. When I’m holding her, feeling all the weight she’s gained resting on my well-formed hips, I remember. Whether with her or over 5000 miles apart, she taught me and my memories of her remind me that love matters most.
I can’t take this girl home. Its foolish to think so. But I’ve never felt as much like a mother as I do feel daily about her. Now God knows I’d be a terrible mother, but she’s taught me the value of motherlove. Whether you choose to be a mother or not or whether you have that choice is beside the point. The point is we can’t deny the motherlove of the divine. We can’t deny the womb of a creator God. And we can’t deny our responsibility to take the suffering, aching, warring world onto our hips and comfort it as best we know how.
And her pouting lips and tiny hands remind me of that. And I am grateful.