Even When It Hurts

Part of motherhood is the sword that pierces your own soul, too (Luke 2:35). 

I get that often enough to make it hurt – deeply. Words hit their mark, assignments sent to distract, disappoint and destroy. I think every one of them goes through this stage at some point, a wall of hatred and rejection, “I hate all of you!” and “I can’t wait to leave this place and be on my own” are the most recent. There’s also the “I don’t need you” and “I don’t want you” because “I am here because I had to be, not by my own choice.” Fortunately for me, I have the most magnificent armor, a prayer army of family and friends, and a love so resilient from a God who loves me like my own Hosea. My Lord is so close, and He speaks through my writing.

I had written out anger and poured out my hurt into my journal pages and then paused to ask for God’s truth, what does He say about this situation? I wrote with hands that were mine but words that were not my own:

“She is hurting. She is drowning in her own fear and tears. Carry her to Me. Only I can heal her. Only I can love her back into life again. Hold her for Me, Kate. Don’t scold her, just hold her. Be My physical body. I love you and have chosen you for such a time as this.”

Only because He loves me first can I love others even when it hurts.

"I have found the paradox. That if we love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt. Only more love." 

-Mother Teresa

 

When the World Stops

 Rays of gold and streaks of orange, this copper sun, setting like an African crown on the horizon, creating a magnificent backdrop to our basketball court.

A light breeze – no longer hot like the summer months when evening still holds the heat of the day.

A symphony of sounds – the birds chirping away like they own the place, not a worry in the world.

The touch of roughed up rubber, yet smooth from wear and the sound it makes dribbling the ball on the cracked cement.

The look of their smiles – oh their smiles – just a random afternoon of unplanned hoops with a few of my girls, and the feeling of their admiration at my “swish.” My soul smiles and pride of the past creeps in like the voice from the newscaster, “Hot-shooting Mary-Kate Martin hits another!” I may be old but I’ve still got it, I wink to myself.

She looks at me and says, “This is peace. This is the most peace I’ve felt in a long time.”

No words are necessary. Just the sounds of the ball on the cement, hitting the backboard, birds as our melody, a captivating sunset, and breath of heaven that prickles the skin.

The world stops in moments like this. Peace. Joy. Contentment. No “duties”, no “to-do” lists, no overwhelming feeling of time slipping away. Simply being present. Oh, the greatest present.

In moments like these, the world stops – joy is alive where peace resides.