the mothering arts

A soft place to land…

I walk in quiet now. I used to be tumble-upon-word, every where and at every time, filling up the space with useless words. I am learning, ever learning, the quiet.

I keep thinking of my calling, the who I am, the what I am. The names I am called. Beloved, mother, sister, daughter, friend. Woman. I come from fracture. I come from broken. How do I walk whole? Holy. Holos. ὅλος.

I hear the shattered-ness all around me. I see the wounds.

And I come to this:

I could be shut-off. Cold. But I need to be open-hearted.

There’s plenty of harsheness. I need to breathe kindness.

Critics abound, but few are encouragers for a living.

I could tie up a problem in a thousand words, but leave the heart in tatters.

There are so many fix-it cures and sham truths. I need to breathe Truth.

When life comes to me in all its forms- in the patter of children’s feet. The guest at my door. I need to live grace and mercy- a soft place to land, a haven from the storm.

And I need to do it all without saying a word.

Tell me what's on your heart~

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