the mothering arts

Ebb and flow

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The days, they get hard pressed, shaken down, crayon on wall, laundry on floor, stubbed toes and rough voices. Like apples in the press, cider running like gold, so go our days. I ache for beauty, search for it. Picture taken last year calls to me with peace.

And I praise.

: for scarlet tresses bedecking trees

: for golden glimpse of sunshine playing across the field chasing shadows like laughing school children

: for words wisely spoken in council

: the smell of wood, burning, smoke upon hill

: the coo of a babe entranced with the world around him

: the careful story his eldest brother tells me of adventures brave and true, illustrated right there on page to see

: the smile of my girl, her goofy laughter causing us all to grin too

: hard work of learning done this morning and oh! the questions we contemplate in the afternoon

: the music of life playing in the background- no radio today, too loud! Five children plenty to fill the void…

O LORD, our Lord,
         How excellent
is Your name in all the earth,
         Who have set Your glory above the heavens!
         
 Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants
         You have ordained strength,
         Because of Your enemies,
         That You may silence the enemy and the avenger. (Psalms 8:1-2)

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