A Blessing for Spiritual Mothers
For the next generation to thrive and to bloom
is not only the heart’s cry of those with once occupied wombs
To nurture, to comfort, to build up, and grow
is too the longing of this woman’s heart,
though childbirth she may never know
First steps,
infantile maturing,
anxious protectiveness,
nesting and worry
a Body changing, sacrificing, morphing, expanding
the call too of a woman’s life who enters into Kingdom mothering
Healing wounds of old
while guarding against future therapist bills
Not a matter of biological can
But a call of spiritual will
Which comes first?
To know physically or metaphorically?
Even if the latter is only to ever see reality
is the love lesser known?
Felt?
Received?
Experienced?
Or is the knowing of a mother’s love defined by more than bodily determinants?
Identified beyond genetics, surprise or planned double lines
But in the gentle silence of a love that welcomes a vulnerable cry
May the lord bless these mothers too whom we forget to celebrate
The ones who track our growth not with balloons or number themed cakes
But whose souls still bear the scars of a labor, of new life
Committed to our maturing, our thriving, our joy supplied in rife
We hold hands
We lose sleep
We patch wounds
Give counsel too
We are the first in every moment to declare, “I’m just so proud of you.”
We are mothers of a family as real as flesh and blood
Mothers whose title is earned with every taking of communion
On earth as it is in heaven
“Whoever does the will of my Father”
God bless these, our often forgotten eternal mothers.