Heartbeats

I’ve kissed these little noses countless times, and my heart whispers through the tight in my throat each time.

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“I get to be your mom.”

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I get to be the one who calms your fears with a touch... whose voice stops your crying. My body grew and nurtured you. Still nurtures one of you. My heartbeat sends you to sleep.

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And I’m so helpless knowing you’ll both be men one day and I won’t be able to make everything okay. I’d die if it meant you’d be okay.

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What a humbling role. And what mysterious beauty that God Almighty takes the time to use the analogy...

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“Can a nursing mother forget her child?”

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 That heart-bursting, fiercely tender, violently protective love...  My Father loves me that way and more despite all my falseness and weakness.

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Baby boys, I kiss you and it HURTS, how much I love you.

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And my Father loves His children more.

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So much more. Where do love and pain begin and end? Love hurts. He sacrificed His Dearly Loved Son to save the likes of me. So much pain and yet so much joy in love.

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“Can a woman forget her nursing child, And not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.” Is. 49:15-16

What love. And what an honor that I can live in feeble mimicry every day with these babies.