my son might have my hands (12.13.22)

My son might have my hands: 

Hands that have held worms and grass and mud.

Hands with fingernails clipped down to blood.

Hands that break plates and drop cups.

Hands cold and fidgeting in too-small gloves.

My son might have my hands:

The ones that have wiped tears and broken noses.

That have pounded on windows before the door closes.

That have picked flowers and double crossed promises.

That clench and unclench, feeling stress and hopelessness.

My son might have my hands.

Desperate.

Searching.

Hungry.

Learning.

My son might have my hands.

Gentle.

Determined.

Stubborn.

Burdened.

My son might have my hands:

The hands that needed to learn their own lessons.

And became shields after being weapons.

He might hurt people. He might help them.

He might use my hands better than I have.

two thousand twenty-two

2022. Simultaneously one of the best and most difficult years of my life, and I haven’t written about most of it. 

I began last year by giving birth a boy who is now a year old. I still can’t master the compulsion to check while he’s sleeping to make sure he’s still breathing. I love being his mother. My year ended with two separate miscarriages and my body that had started feeling like a home again, feels foreign and lonely. I feel, somehow, like less of a mother than I am.

Tan and I have grown as a team. We’re learning how to support each other through the mundane. We function in crisis mode so well, but we’ve found that the little daily struggles are the battles where we fumble and often fail to have each other’s back. Love grows where and when we water it so we’re becoming better gardeners.

The future, our future, of ministry feels so far away. I struggle daily to press on toward the goal. A little voice that started as a whisper is getting louder in my head, “What if all your efforts are in vain? What if you never make it? What if you fail?” Some days I don’t have anything to say to the voice because everything feels in vain. Some days I can tell that voice that failure is not an option; when our lives are set in motion by the love of God wherever we end up can be called success.

 

In this year ahead, this impending future, I hope to live every day set in motion by the love of God.