enough

when I don’t get all of the clothes folded. when dishes pile up in the sink. when the bathroom mirror is spoltchy. when the bathtub is still stained pink.

I am enough.

when the floor has gone unswept. when the counters are sticky. when the hallway needs a good cleaning. when the table stays a yucky mess.

I am enough.

when my children beat each other up. when they scream “I HATE YOU, TOO!” when they fall on the ground in angry tears. when in a rage they break all of their toys.

I am enough.

when their reading grades are low. when they’ve lost their gym shorts… again. when they still don’t know their times tables. when they refuse to do their school work.

I am enough.

when my pre-baby clothes are still too small. when I haven’t showered in days. when my legs are more than just prickly. when I feel nowhere near ok

I am enough.

when my roll of fat hangs over my pants. when my hair is faded and in knots. when I get sad looking at my body. when acne covers my face in ugly spots.

I am enough.

 

when all that you feel is fat and ugly. when you feel like the world’s most useless wife. when you are sure that you are a failure as a mother. when you feel like you just suck at life.

You are enough.

More than enough.

ALWAYS ENOUGH.

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this, my body

this, my body, is beautiful.
it holds the wonders of creation and the magical mysteries of life.
it has lived, breathed, nourished and held more than just myself.
it is the creator of worlds untold and dreams uncountable.
it has features unique to just me –
things only me, God and my love will ever know of.
it is the canvas of my soul; colorful, imperfect and ever changing.

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this, my body, is powerful.
it overcomes pain – joint pain and deep in the bone pain.
it is familiar with the pain of broken bones, split skin and stubbed toes.
it endured through the pain of childbirth and the fire that is thrush.
it welcomes the monthly battle that it goes through to destroy an organ.
it has known the endless pain of failing at it’s job of carrying a baby
– the pain of losing a baby and feeling it leak out of you.

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this, my body, is precious.
it is a one of a kind special edition, a collector’s item,
something never to be seen again whole.
it is half of the blueprint that makes up my children. this nose, these eyes.
to hate any part of it would be to look at my children and to say to them
that i hate these things on and in them as well.
it is the only body that i have been given – i must cherish it.

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this, my body, is mine.
i own it.
i claim it.
i hold it dear to me.
this, my body.

prayers while cooking

lord, get me through tonight.

my children are yelling – in anger and fun, the dog won’t stop barking, and well, the baby is one.

dinner is cooking, and while no one was hungry for fruit at snack they’re all starving for cookies now. and lord, you know as well as I that the minute dinner is in front of them they’ll be full after two or three bites…

sorry for those few moments of yelling lord, the littlest two were fighting over a dinosaur  (because it’s not like we have a box full) and my daughter had to tattle on them, and the oldest just had to try to parent them all too.

lord, I swear I feel like I live with the chattering, screaming, howling monkeys at the zoo.

get me through tonight lord, I can just imagine how bedtime will be going in a bit. I know there will be arguing, and yelling, and more than likely tears, and probably someone will end up getting hit.

well, it’s time for me to go now lord, dinner is ready and bowls must be made. the real battle is about to begin, but thank you, lord, it’s almost the end of the day.

in the quiet and the stillness

i miss you most in the quiet and the stillness.
i sit and wait sometimes, forgetting that you won’t be back any minute.
it gets so lonely in the peace.
it leaves me sad. my chest tight.
– my throat constricting.

i am trying to keep it going.
i know this change is for the best.
i know that you would rather be here too.
i know that i will one day adapt.

but these quiet moments are just killing me.

i miss your presence.
i miss laying with the feel of your calloused hand on my waist.
i miss the warmth of you in our bed.
i even miss your snore.

without you it feels like only half of me can function.
like only half of me exists.
my heart vibrates from wails of loneliness
– calling for you to be nearer to me.

not a mistake

there were tears that she cried because she was sure that all of her dreams and plans were being taken from her. and everyone told her that they were disappointed in her mistake.

there was frustration she felt because all of the sudden nobody saw her as who she was. everyone just saw her as the maker of one giant mistake.

there were screams that she heard because she had let everyone down so they needed to now beat her down as well. they screamed how she was a failure and that her baby was a mistake.

there were looks of pity she was given because she used to be so smart and so good. but now she was just another slut who was being punished for making a mistake.

time went by.

in her arms she now held this beautiful, glorious, tiny baby.
not a mistake.

this love that she now felt was beyond anything that she could have ever imagined.
and it was for her baby, not a mistake.

true, this was not the path that she had planned to venture down, or the dreams that she had held dear. but now that she was through the dark of the trail, the nightmare of the start, a new world was before her.
not a mistake.

God, nature or fate – one of them planned this. something this awesome and complete could never have been a mistake. he had been lovingly made perfect inside of her – down to every lash and wrinkle in his lip.
no, he could never be a mistake.

she no longer looks at him and sees the things that she gave up or the woman she could have been. she looks at him, deep at him, and sees love and a future and brand new dreams. she looks at him and sees who she is now compared to who she was then. and it is then that she knows,
this, him, had always been the plan, and was never a mistake.

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she is blooming

she is blooming.
she is no flower, weak and easily broken,
but a tree growing to tower and sustain life.
a sapling she may still be,
but every year that her leaves bloom once more
is a year that she continues to soar.

one day she will provide so much.
life. protection. strength. refuge. home.
but today she is still blooming,
and has a while more to grow.
her limbs are still reaching,
her bark gets thicker by the day.
her rings are still forming,
marking all of her progress and her change.

she is blooming – no she is soaring!
her roots will be strong and they will go deep.
and the storms will not easily bend or break her.

she is a blooming tree - monsters + tutus

it started so tiny

it started so tiny.
like a seed, small and round.
with determination and love and warmth
it shot its roots down deep like a web –
with me ensnared like the prey.
but if i am to die here in your roots, web, love,
then here i am prepared to die joyfully.
for where you are is where i am.
and where our love is, baby, i just thrive.
it all just grows,
and grows,
AND GROWS.
this love like a flower that just bursts into life.
it is here and it is beautiful.
sound, color, smell.
life.
it draws the world to us as we do our own thing.
with our love we grow more love, more hope, more beauty, more smiles.

and it all just started so, so tiny.