Weighted

  ~

I never thought that when I whitewashed thrifted furniture, painted a fresh coat on the walls, hung the shelves and arranged the baskets, stacked tidy rows of beautifully printed cotton,

 My first project

 Months after that first hopeful stroke of paint,

 Would be the weight of a baby’s blanket

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 ~

Amaris’s tears started then

And have slipped ripe and full over the beautiful brown of her skin since

All the tenderness offered could not sooth the fragility of her hurt

I have wept with my daughter

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 ~

With the sun rising hopeful over our days and long into the soul crushing hours of night

Days slipping way to a whole season of tears

Experts say the moist is memories

An infant’s way of expressing the depth and force of pain

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I weep because I can’t go back in time and wrap my infant with security and safety

I weep so weary

The tears rattle a soul right through to my brain

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This is adoption

So much brokenness

Mine, hers and a God who is molding us

Forming the bond through the wrestling pains of life

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God leads to wisdom

Teachers, experts and Doctors

Who deposits tools and keys and a whole new way of life

That covers the broken and heals their wounds

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I’m the mother and I see the signs

The special care it will take going back, journeying the darkness, letting the brokenness be filled with light

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That pendulum of special needs swings wide and vast

We teeter in the sensory processing spectrum

Along with almost every other child of trauma and neglect

I ache for my girl who is worth so much more then was given

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Knowing why the tears

All her pain gushing out

Knowing her brain formed around stress and the damage it has caused

My Mothering heart winces

It can cripple with this care

 Or it can cradle this wee one

Draw her nearer

Embrace the broken

Wipe another tear and then a thousand more

I can swaddle her then tuck her under a weighted blanket that calms and soothes her senses

I can grow and learn

I can be a purposeful healer

 I can

 Love

And be assured that God has

Kept track of all my sorrows.
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.

I can offer

A sacrifice of thanks for your help.
For you have rescued me from death;
    you have kept my feet from slipping.
So now I can walk in your presence, O God,
    in your

Life-Giving Light

Psalms 56

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Tender Mercies

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There is story being etched in these days of silence, somewhere in the deepest eves of my Soul my Lord is working, there has been darkness, beatific, the word I make a life to, seems like shadows of yesterday,

I have felt tossed

I have tumbled

I have clenched and it has ached.

There has been no cease hollowing out the mire.

I toil and I travail, believing, surely beyond the tomorrows spring will come

Slowly bringing me back the rhythms of beauty,

My deepest love, the man, I have leaned heavy into, whispered it strong and sure into the late of night

‘I wait quietly before God,

For my victory comes from him.

He alone is my rock and my salvation,

My fortress where I will never be shaken

Let all that I am wait quietly before God,

For my hope is in him.’

Psalms 62

Quietly I have waited and in the quiet I wait,

To hear hopes soft unfurl

The essence of beauty breathing tenderly once again

May your grace, my dear friends, walk patiently with me?

Listen to the words of my days,

Hear the story in Beatific

Binding

Beauty

Blessing

~