Sunday, May 08, 2011

 

Sunday Reflection: The cry of a child


Last night, there were mothers across the United States anxiously watching over their children: Making macaroni and cheese, creating last-minute prom solutions, taking temperatures. There is worry and concern with all this. My own dear mother is in Provence, half a world away, but I don't doubt there is still worry in her thoughts, concern for what I might be messing up today.

But... there is still that baby within each of those children, that pure innocent creation of God.

There is this moment, with a newborn baby, where that child is nothing but potential and love. You mothers remember that moment-- holding that tiny thing, the fingers like peanuts, the whole of that loved being lying on your right arm, tiny feet at your hand and the downy head at your elbow. You looked in that baby's eyes, and there was love, just pure love, nothing else, no worries, no danger, just that wreath of love.

It is always there. It is there now, that feeling, perhaps buried or mixed with a tidal pool of hurt and challenges, but it is there. You see it in mothers, if you are in criminal law, the mothers of defendants, and it is one of the most overwhelming things if you bother to actually see it-- that the purity of that moment is still there.

If you are a mother, think of that moment, and see it in your child. For the rest of us, consider the moments that the pure love of a mother became clear for a moment, the beauty of that, and rest well in the knowledge that God acts through people, those people who bring forth the light and the hope for the world.

Comments:
Sending your Mom to Provence: nice trick to avoid sending her a card.
 
It's funny, b/c all mothers know the cry of their own child...it's like a beacon...and it's as if we can hear it and pick it out of a million other crying children from miles around.

And yes, that moment...I remember it. But, I still have them....when I hear her verbalizing something in such a way, that I pause, and think, what a wonderful person she is becoming. And my soul starts to soar...
 
The beauty of this writing is deeply palpable. I read and feel the weight of my infant son along my arm and look into those enormous wise soul eyes. He is now 26,and I am still learning from him. And he is still cutting through to the heart of my indefensible bullshit and handing it to me on a china plate! He gives me the rare gift of laughter on a daily basis. But your assertion that God comes to us through people is what I have tried to hold onto in this life. I wonder what would happen if we approached each soul we met with reverence and with the prayerful question: "Where are You here? Show me." This is the fitting destination for the musings of this week. Thank you for it.
 
Being a mother is the greatest gift I have ever been given. On this mother's day, I say: Thanks kids!
 
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