what to really hold onto in the glorious mess {Free Printable Mother Art}

Today, a gift — a guest post from a heart-sister, whose breakfast table I’ve sat at and whose tribe of wide-eyed boys I’ve read stories aloud to and who has laughed hard with me over peanut butter frosted brownies and we have bowed together and prayed even harder.

Dear Mother,

This morning seems like all the others. My little rock house creaks in the season change, warm under covers and cool outside.

I pour my coffee, step over dinosaurs, and toss a bruised apple.

Out the window, the navy sky makes its way to bright Spring blue. The geese have a nest on our roof, and I hear them scuffling. It’s time for the quiet, the morning time before my four boys wake.

I close my eyes, a nod at prayer. “I’m not even sure You can hear me. Are You there?

One walks in sucking his thumb, and he was supposed to quit that 3 years ago, and I cradle him in my mind, tell him again, rub his back, and swipe his hair to the side.

My mother heart thumps, and I swallow back the lump in my throat, how I won’t hold him again tiny suckling in my lap, how God is here in my mother love, encouraging my child toward maturity.

Three hungry ones now prod each other on the couch, and I squint toward the pile of laundry, don’t want to see it.

The day moves on so quickly, hours blurring by. The baby mouths it through the monitor; I hear him. “MaMaMa. MaMaMa,” and so the race begins. I run upstairs.

I hurdle so much, everything a mess.

And I whisper truth as I go, “God hears me, too.”

At the crib, my tiny one who seems so slow to grow, he stands and waits, reaches. The sun hits his face as I walk, and his smile blinds me like a mirror would.

We’re a flash in the pan, all of us are, but once we are a mother, we never stop reflecting God, mother love, the way we go to them when they call, the way we pass it down.

If I really look, I can see them shine.

I tell you about it so you remember to watch, how God presses into our lives with these children, shows us faith in our capacity to love.

Down in the kitchen, the boys rip open bags of cereal – not across the top, but in a crooked slash down the side – and they don’t wait on me to pour the milk. Often it spills, and often I cry.

I don’t always celebrate in the mess like I wish I would.

But there are days I can step back and see the glory, God pressing in so closely that I flinch – like a reprimand is coming, but then a kiss lands instead.

His robe fills my house.

He loved you first, mother. Don’t forget what a child you are.

God is in it all, the narrative of your childhood and how he weaves you still, even as your own babies are knit in your womb.

Sometimes there is so much mess is this journey that we can’t see straight, but even in the blur, even in doubt, there is Glory!

He hears you.

Glory, indeed.

Free Printable Mother Art for you:

{Quotes from letter-writers found in the the Mother Letter’s book.  Clickhere for more free art}
Ann Voskamp QuoteQuote 1 - 4"x6" (300 dpi)







Are you familiar with the mess and the glory of motherhood?

Today is the release of the Mother Letters Ebook, (available for Kindle too), a compilation of letters from mothers to mothers, curated by Amber and Seth Haines.

This collection of letters, photographs, and stories captures the messy, glorious art of motherhood , written to encourage you in your motherhood journey.

It’s a mosaic of the authentic life of a mom.

{You’re invited to share in the mess and glory with Mother Letters. Consider encouraging other moms by writing your own Mother Letter and linking it to the Mother Letters Link Up Party, sharing the truth about the mess and the glory of motherhood?}