Hunched
Motherhood has caused me to be hunched over.
Hunched to give kisses and pick up little arms as they reach for the sky.
Hands saying, "up! up!"
Hunched over the sink, washing dishes, bottles, diapers. Hands cracking from the constant hot water.
Hunched towards the door.
Listening for the cries of an infant as he awakens alone. Hands searching for comfort.
Hunched over my child, as he nurses. Big, beautiful eyes that see only me. Hands patting, grabbing, holding.
Motherhood has caused me to be bent.
Bent towards the floor, picking up toys, blankets, and books. Hands wiping a nose, protecting from danger, and folding clothes.
Bent as I curl around my sleeping baby, listening to him breathe. Hands resting, sure he feels my warmth.
Bent on my knees, praying daily for wisdom, energy, and that my son would grow to love the Lord. Hands worshipping the King
Motherhood has caused me to reach.
Reach the limits of my patience, sanity, exhaustion, self. Hands covering my face, wiping my tears.
Reach out for friends, family, even neighbors. Hands holding babies, hugging parents, making food.
Reach for my Father, crying, seeking, longing. Hands trembling in the face of the unknown.
Hunched, bent, and reaching. I am stronger, lifted up, and daily made new in my Father's hands.
No one can pluck me out of my Father's hands. John 10:29
