These precious little feet, this calling of Motherhood.
I post my first poem.
I wrote this poem a little over a year ago.
Jackson was a year old and I was soon to find out
we were pregnant again.
My poem expresses a deeper desire to accept this calling of Motherhood yet weaves a thread of hope in the midst of revealing the hardships of parenting.
The reward...well, its deeper than the pen can tell.
A Mothers Love
If I am always cleaning, organizing, running errands and cooking
but have not love, I am just another wife and mother.
If I give my time to community service, volunteer work,
and church activities
but have no love, I gain nothing.
If I spend time in God's word, in prayer & in writing
but have not love, it profits me nothing.
but have not love, I am just another wife and mother.
If I give my time to community service, volunteer work,
and church activities
but have no love, I gain nothing.
If I spend time in God's word, in prayer & in writing
but have not love, it profits me nothing.
Love is rising with little sleep and letting go of a planned week.
It's changing diapers, wiping a runny nose, singing songs and playing
"Uh Oh!”
Love reads silly stories and makes air plane noise.
Love carries on her hip.
Love is willing to endure back pain.
It does not envy another life;
wishing things were different or longing for more free time.
Love accepts her lot and believes her cup runneth over.
Love fights bad attitudes.
It confesses sin and asks for forgiveness time & time again.
Love disciplines in hope that her children see God's loving boundaries.
She does not discipline for her comfort or peoples praise.
Love sets other desires aside so she can look into her child's eyes,
she realizes how fleeting life is.
Love never fails.
(c) ~ Emily Murphy ~
A personalized version of 1 Corinthians 13
