Sunday is Mother’s Day, so I thought I’d share this beautiful blog with you. It was written by my daughter. Enjoy! -anita
The house was silent, as the souls that lie therein remained in peaceful slumber. Curling into the deep seat of the wooden rocker I pulled the tattered quilt around my frame, as if it were a mother’s embrace. Slowly, the tears began to fall. My heart…a mother’s heart… had been ripped wide. Nothing remained but emptiness. As much as I attempted to bury the pain…deny it’s existence…I could not.
Upon the wooden boards the steady creaking of the rocker hums a lullaby. I sink deep into the memories as I unfold the rows laid across my lap. Rows of stitching. Uneven. Yet each thread intentional, woven with love. I take another look. Over time the quilt has lost it’s shape…it’s firmness. No longer a perfect square, rather a bit stretched…soft…comforting. The bright hues that once adorned have long since faded. Many nights of wrapping sick children…being scrubbed clean upon the washboard and hung in the heat have taken it’s toll.
This patchwork laid before me resembles that of a mothers’ heart. Along our journey we weave each thread imperfectly but always with love. As new life swells within our wombs we stretch, loosing our shape, not knowing that the real stretching is yet to come. Our insecurities. Our pride. Our fears. They all rise to the surface. With conviction and repentance Jesus scrubs us clean. The heat of our trials stretch our hearts with more love, compassion and understanding to give. It’s uncomfortable, sometimes painful and never again are we the same.
From the moment you become a mother whether it be from the seed swelling within your womb or one that has been chosen, a mother’s heart begins to beat with something new. The stiffness softens and struggles chisel away the rough edges. The heart overflows with an indescribable love and our lives become that time worn quilt…
By: Jessica Lutz -Aug. 13, 2012