I swung my head around, dodging another flying shoe that left yet another mark of anger in the wall.
I hate you. You're nothing like my mother. I hate me. I hate all of this. I hate myself and my life, and it's all my fault.
I took one step toward her only to have the door slammed in my face, leaving me to sigh and slump through my tears. Through the crack in the doorway I reminded her with broken voice, I love you. I love you. I love you.
The scenario has been replayed more times than I can count. Different circumstances, new triggers, various children.
Arms of all sizes and colors reaching past me, craving the only one who cannot cradle in this moment.
In the midnight hours, I tiptoed down the hall to her room, confident our world was deep asleep.
Kneeling beside her bed, I brushed her hair from her face and saw the peace for which she longed, yet found only in the silence of the night.
And I whispered, You are so precious. You are our treasure. You are so deeply loved.
She slept on.
And suddenly, I saw another's stretching arms wrap around my neck as I knelt. One I thought was asleep across the room moved around me, crawling into my lap as she cupped my cheeks and whispered, Mama, you are loved.
My world stood still, one hand on a sleeping child, another around the little one seeking to reassure my mama heart.
For moments I sat, treasuring, pondering, dreaming, hoping.
Not one of us would speak of it in the morning. Perhaps some of us would not remember or ever even know.
Yet in those quiet hours, I was reminded how deeply Love is known in our home, even through the aching, reaching arms and midnight tears.
Love with us as we celebrate my birthday. Read more here.
Because of Jesus ~