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Friday, April 29, 2011

.When it takes a Rocking Chair to Die to Self.

Five weeks equals countless hours in the rocker.


Heart against heart beating as we rock. Memorizing dark curls, chocolate skin, eyelashes - thick and lush, pink perfect lips. Remembering how long I had waited for these moments and how I had wondered when and if they would ever come. And now that they are here I am finding that I must fight for them and fight off





Because the truth is that while I rock the world does not stop. There is always something else that I need to do, I want to do, or I feel like I should be doing. It only takes a moment for the selfishness to creep in.

It is then that I have to breathe in slowly the grace of the moment given, and remember that this is what I dreamed of, prayed for, and begged of God. And remember the mommies that would give their very breath to have the moment I am wishing to hurry. I remember the orphans and their empty, wounded eyes that begged for a mommy to rock them to sleep.

And with every rock back and forth, back and forth with his body curled into mine I must die to self again - rock, again - rock, again.

And to die in those moments is to truly live and to see the truth once more - this life is just a vapor - and for the moment there is nothing more important than rocking my baby who waited fifteen months for this very thing I can give him - my arms, my time, my love.

And honestly there is nowhere else I'd rather be.



Unknown said...

Oh my friend, your precious words were just what I needed to hear today. To stop, breathe, and die to the self that I don't want to be. I pray for the courage to raise my kids with selfless hearts, to be a constant prayerful and patient mama. Thank you for reminding me of that tonight!


The Imperfect Sojourner said...

beautiful x

Leigh said...

Wow. Absolutely wow. Poetry drips from your letters and song lifts through your words. Beautiful.

ChildTalk said...

*Oh my goodness* what a beautiful, beautiful post, and one I understand deeply and completely on all levels...

I'll reply to your speech question over at ChildTalk, but I wanted to stop by here and tell you that my son was born in Ethiopia! He came home at 3 months and just turned six in January. In fact, it was six years ago Wed that I held him in my arms for the first time....

And we rocked and rocked and rocked for hours upon end, too.

Hugs to you. :)


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