this freedom to just be and not do, to focus on my overwhelmed heart and not dwell on the placement of the words on the page. it's truly freeing to be like this.
i understand why Mary kept each thing close and pondered them deep within her heart. there's so much that floods my mind every single day, and i feel so close to exploding.
:: and i am practicing peace ::
i'm not a mother, yet...am i? is it alright to have practices of parenting for something the size of a green olive that only makes its presence known in lack of sleep and overpowering nausea?
but i do. and i'm practicing peace.
because i want this child to know what i have learned, and i ache that it might not take so long. and i fear i might forget when this silence is replaced by screams and this beauty is replaced by sleepless nights and the desperation for just a moment of rest in the chaos.
but i want to wrap my arms around this child as i wrap my arms around my stomach now and whisper
peace I bring you
not as the world gives.
because i'm birthing into chaos and madness, a world that wants to pull my little one under with every lust and doubt and fear and loss.
this wants to turn my beautiful daughter into a stick figure, never thin enough but slowly dying inside and out. it wants to turn my strong warrior son's eyes into mirrors for disrespecting the women he is born to protect.
and that is almost enough to turn me to fear and tremble, and not the kind i should possess.
but i am striving, i am aching, i am seeking peace. my first practice of parenthood, even while my child is so small and knows nothing but love within.
in a world of dark, i want to whisper Light into this yet-forming ears. i want to sing the lilting notes of Lion's song into the silence.
in His presence, there is peace. and i am kneeling here with hands pressed to belly and eyes wide to bloodstained cross.
and i'm practicing peace.
am i overstepping by being this passionate already?