Night Time

I often find myself with the most serene meditation and prayers while sitting in the dark, on the floor, next to the beds while my daughters sleep. There's something sacred in the air of a slumbering kid- dreams being caught in the brambles of stars, little chests rising and falling with calm, steady breaths. Everything is so still, and my mind can't help but fall into my heart.

But the prayers offered by a mother as she watches her slumbering child are not just an utterance of gratitude or wishes for safety and health. For me, at least, my nightly reverent routine is a series of pleadings, begging God to forgive me for all the ways I fell short, once again, as a mom. I beg Him to let me have more time to get it right. I plead that they will wake up loving me still.

Night after night I make deep and personal promises over the alter of motherhood. 

Because motherhood is not always some fanfare of kisses on the nose, band-aids, grapes for lunch, "I love you," "buckle up!",  story time, tickling, time out, naps, laughter, messes, boogers, "But this is all worth it!"medley.

There are a number of deeply lonely days; dark days.

Sometimes it's hard to find the purpose of it all.

And it's easy to loose perspective.

But every dark day ends with a dark night. Those little snores begin again- one belly sleeper with her bum in the air, another tangled up in three blankets, the oldest nearly impossible to find among all of her stuffed animals. It always takes a wiper to my rainy, blurred view and I feel like I can see clearly again for a moment. Purpose and perspective. It's them. It was always them.