It took my heart several days to sort through the emotions that rose up during that first phone call. It's taken many more not to allow fear to dominate when I see him pull out of the driveway in his own truck.
We are fragile creatures, us mothers, our hearts battered daily by this call to raise human beings. A call that demands we let those same human beings, once tiny in our arms, loose to fly on their own. It's that process of wrenching the heart in a million different ways, a different one every day, that envoke the apron string jokes and the pillows in boutiques with large letters emblazoned, "Call Your Mother." Because it's a life-long wrenching. It never stops.
And that kind of constant wrenching hurts.
And is exquisitely beautiful at the same time.
Because without the wrenching, the babies don't fly.
Without the wrenching, no nests are ever built, one generation turning into the next.
Without the wrenching, a mother's job is not fulfilled.
So, it was not lost on me the gift my God gave me this week.
A nest. Built in the lantern on my front porch. A nest built by a mama who sits and waits patiently every day for her babies. A mama who flies away every time the front door opens, protecting her young by drawing attention away from her brood.
But now, in a few short weeks, I'll be reminded all over again, that a mama's tucking of the feathers around her babies lasts only for a season. And then it's time for them to fly.
God's voice spoke gently, but it was clear. "You get them for a while. To tuck and to nurture. But, you can't hold them back. They weren't born for the nest."
The wrenching hurts. But, it's good.
Today, I held up the camera to snap a photo, wanting to see how many eggs the mama ended up with in her nest.
When the camera came back down and I saw the number, my tears flowed.
"Thank you, God, for the gift of my babies. I treasure them. And I will let them fly."
Author's Note: Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas who read Treasure the Ordinary. Blessings to you as you celebrate the beautiful call that has been yours because a child was born to your nest.
