Motherhood

One day a baby came and the river flowed. The girl did not run from the sudden water or attempt to go around it, she stood in the middle of it, anchored by the baby in her arms. The worth of the baby's life felt so substantial, the raging currents couldn't move her. The waters churned, day in and day out, yet she did not budge. 

As God designed Noah’s flood for reinvention, He likewise floods the hearts of mothers. The initial rush wipes away youth, leaving in its wake responsibilities. The waters cover the past, veiling the appeal. She can never again fathom singular. No, it was a story she read, a movie she watched. Always, always, she was your mother. She could not have belonged to herself, to slumber parties, to schoolyard crushes, to silly things. 

The river is a constant - through sickness and health - it flows. Nothing can bar the river, it cannot be tapered or tamed. It destroys, it creates, it deepens. Life gathers around its banks. Do not fear that words or miles diminish its force. Even the fires of Hell cannot exist in its presence. Now you see why God wrapped you in a river. 

The smile of any mother belies the strength of the river that washed away the girl. Your mother stood in her own river. Only she knows the impact of the currents, the tears shed when the waters became stormy. In order for you to be born, she had to be born again, submitting to her baptism, because you arrived cocooned in a torrent.

When you see your mother, do you glimpse that once-upon-a-time girl? You will have to pursue the girl, because your mother cannot remember. The notion of a lone girl is beyond her reach. A mother’s love is an etching river, carving its patterns - occasionally with force, often with habit - engraving the names of her children and their futures upon her heart. Always, always, she was your mother. She could not have belonged to herself…

One day a baby came and the river flowed. A brave girl stepped into the river to be with her baby. She became an immovable force in a moveable world. The river pulsed around her, over her, and through her, until no one knew she existed without the river, or the river without her. It was a constant through the hours and years of her life. Even in death, the river flows. Now you see why God wrapped you in a river.