We all need to be seen.
It only truly matters that we are seen by our Maker,
But while we are down here in a world that is
Tattered and broken,
Often so distant from the one who defines us,
There is a loneliness that erodes our sense of truth
When we are not genuinely seen by those who are near.
We bring great healing to the world
When we choose to see others:
Their hope, Their pain, Their struggles,
Those maddening joys mixed with fear.
On Mother’s Day my husband and I wandered the grocery store,
Perusing veggies and planning lunch.
Only a few close family and friends knew I was pregnant.
My motherhood. My love for my child. All of it,
Was real to me, yet so broadly unseen.
I felt a sort of insecurity
That what mattered most to me didn’t really “count” yet.
“Happy Mother’s day,” said Chase,
As he handed me a pot of yellow flowers in the market aisle.
I gripped the gift with both hands.
“You’re a really good mom,” he said.
That planted a seed in me, that continues to bear good fruit.
We heal when we are known.
And we share that healing when we choose to know another.
You are a special kind of summer day. The kind that doesn’t roll around ’til August when afternoons stretch longer and hotter. The buzz of bees is set to slow motion. The breeze has stopped. I find myself wishing for the brisk chill of fall and the vibrant sunset leaves, but then the warm rays of August sunshine hug me and I do not want to go. Pastel flowers quiver in the vibrations of a distant lulling lawn mower. My eyes blink in long pausing breaths. They will not light up until the sun goes down and the stars… Well, I don’t need to talk about the stars. We’ve all heard about sparkling constellations in the summer sky a thousand times. But you talk about them. You describe their twinkle as if you were the only one to have ever seen stars before, and the rest of us really ought to go check them out sometime. You reach your hands out in front of you and use your fingers to imitate how they glitter. I nod along.
where we will grow 